Bravely, We Go
by Andoline
Summary: Agnès Oblige, Edea Lee, Ringabel, and Tiz Arrior become flesh-and-blood characters in this dramatization of the events of Bravely Default.
1. The Brave Beginning

**AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Agnès Oblige's life could be summed up in a word — duty. It was made of tasks that had to be done.

If you asked Agnès, Vestal of Wind, she would never admit to being tired and irritable after a sleepless night of prayers. Nor would she concede that her cell's hard mattress and cold stone floor made her long for lusher comforts. She would never grant that the grasping touch of acolytes made her want to cringe.

She tucked these reservations away and kept them in a secret corner of her heart.

But her heart should have been pure. So when disaster struck the temple, Agnès blamed herself.

She should have given herself wholly to her vestal duties. She should have prayed more fervently, been plagued by fewer distractions. Most of all, she should have appreciated the acolytes the way they deserved. Agnès had never really known any of them. Not as people.

It wasn't until those nameless shells had shielded Agnès with their own bodies, and died for it, that Agnès had truly known what it meant to be devoted. Then she understood how deeply she had failed.

She would never forget crawling out of the pile of scorched bodies. Never would the memory of seeing her once pristine Crystal, blackened and smoking, fade. The howls of the monsters pouring through the ruined wards would never stop echoing in her ears.

Nor would the King of Ancheim's bitter words: "Fix it."

Several acolytes had survived the blast and they'd managed to escort Agnès forty miles north, through the desert, to the city of Ancheim. Two of the acolytes had perished on the trek. One had died from wounds sustained during the Crystal's detonation. The other… had fallen to monsters.

Agnès hated to think of how she had been then — so weak and helpless. She hadn't known how to defend herself from the monsters that leapt from behind rocks, or how to harvest water from the air with a simple spell. She hadn't known the most basic foraging skills. Her only virtue during that journey had been her ability to bear her pain in silence. She hadn't whimpered, not once, not when her lips cracked from the dry heat, or when chills from the cold nights wracked her body. She hadn't complained when her feet grew bloody or when her guts began to cramp.

Maybe that stiff upper lip had earned Pia's respect.

Pia had been hiding in the temple when the darkness consumed the Crystal. Just days before, she'd been unhappily married to a free-fisted man in a scrubby desert outpost. Hearing that a great aunt of hers was serving as an acolyte at the Temple of Wind, Pia had "parted ways" with her husband on a "borrowed" horse and sought secret "refuge" in the holy temple.

Pia was a perfect example of why the Crystal Orthodoxy forbade the laity from entering its temples, for Pia was a crook, plain and simple. Agnès had no doubt that Pia would have shattered the temple's sanctimony, had she the time to grow bored. But Pia wasn't truly wicked. Because whentrue evil had infiltrated the temple, Pia was in the right place at the right time. Agnès could only believe that the Crystals had brought Pia to her. Somehow they'd known that Agnès would need the help of a girl like Pia to survive.

When Agnès and Pia had reached Ancheim after their trek through the desert, crowds had parted for the two women as they'd stumbled to the King's palace. Going straight to the King had been Agnès' idea. Pia had rolled her eyes and told Agnès she was a damn fool, but had gone with Agnès all the same.

Every acid rebuke of the King had been a lash to Agnès already fragile state of mind. It was her fault that the Crystal had fallen, that all of the acolytes were dead. It was her fault that ship sails crumpled, that the sea rotted, that windmills languished. It was all her fault.

"Fix it," the King had ordered.

But Agnes hadn't known how. So she and Pia had made a plan.

Before Agnès could begin her journey, she'd needed to know how to keep herself alive. She'd never held a weapon in her eighteen years — not even a kitchen knife. Pia had been the first person to put a blade in Agnès' hand. It had been a stubby, little short-sword and Agnès had grown fond of it. Day and night on the outskirts of Ancheim, Pia had taught Agnes how to be an aggressive, yet careful, fighter.

Agnès had wondered at the new blisters on her palms. "I didn't know blisters grew anywhere besides feet!" she'd said.

Pia had laughed until she'd shed tears. "How can you be so clever one moment, then so dumb the next? Agnès. You can get blisters anywhere you've got skin. I'm surprised you ain't got none on your knees yet, all the prayin' and scrapin' about the Crystals you do."

When Agnes could kill a desert worm by herself, Pia set Agnès loose. "I've taught you all I can, Your Holiness. Now go find the Wind."

So that's what Agnès did.

 **EDEA LEE**

Doing a backflip while holding a sword wasn't an easy or safe thing to do, but Edea Lee loved the flair of it. She loved hearing the gasps of the court dandies who came to watch her sparring matches. Those painted peacocks, who never lifted both feet off the ground if they could help it, were so easy to impress. But what Edea really wanted was seeing her combatant unnerved, and flips did that. So much of a fight was psychic that way. The bruises and bumps from learning these combat acrobatics were well worth the payoff.

Her estimable tutor, Nobutsuna Kamiizumi, fought in a less flashy style, and was much too experienced and wise to be thrown off by Edea's acrobatics. However, this ceremonial fight between the two of them today was a display. Edea could never hope to win, but she would put on a damn fine show before her ass got kicked.

Sure enough, Tutor Nobutsuna disarmed her within seconds. Fortunately, Edea managed to cross blades with him a few times before he'd sliced her sword in half.

 _Hmph._ It seemed that even estimable tutors, who'd earned their asterisks at age eighteen, weren't above a little showmanship every so often.

But then, when her tutor had presented her with his own katana — Ise-no-Kami — and inducted her into the Sky Knights… it was a moment Edea would treasure forever. Not even the sly asides of her father's creepy Arcanist, Victoria Stein, could dampen her joy.

"Perhaps, Braev, your daughter will earn her asterisk for being a Performer, like Praline," Victoria had sneered to her father.

 _Grrr._ But Edea was above such insults. She was. Victoria's insinuations couldn't touch her today.

For as long as Edea could remember, she'd been surrounded by people of influence, experts in their fields, people with asterisks.

No one truly understood the mechanics of how an asterisk formed — that was magic for you, notoriously hard to pin down. But as soon as you had an asterisk, your talents became just that — magical. Asterisks grew in people as they achieved mastery in their field. That's right, asterisks _grew_ , like a plant. And like a plant, asterisks could be harvested…

Her own father was a Templar, had earned it before Edea was born. Her estimable tutor was a Swordmaster, winning his asterisk as a teenager. One of her childhood playmates had traveled the world, learning the insidious magic necessary to become a Dark Knight. Edea even knew a girl who had formed an asterisk as a Seamstress. That girl wielded a needle. Edea wielded a katana, defied gravity like a bird, was practically a woman, and no asterisk was in sight.

Her mother told her to have patience, but Edea didn't know how much longer she could wait for the magic to tell her that her course was true. It was important that her life meant something. Edea wouldn't — couldn't — live for nothing.

So when her father had given Edea her first command as a Sky Night — to find and capture the Vestal of Wind — Edea felt in her bones that her life's purpose was truly beginning.

She boarded the airship Eschalot with her father's men, and set her course.

 **RINGABEL**

Ringabel was addicted to copulation.

He loved the wet slide of it, the frantic rhythm of hips, the smacking of skin on skin. But most of all, he loved the game of words and looks leading up to it.

Lots of men loathed that bit, the careful approach, the teasing suggestions, the awkward exchanges. Those men feared communication. They feared connection. But for Ringabel, the sharp sting of an angry slap was just as satisfying as a messy climax.

There was probably something wrong with him. Aside from the obvious things.

When he'd first woken up, with all of his memories gone, his first urge had been to fuck. He'd been laying in a field just outside the gates of Caldisla. He had the clothes on his back, a dagger and buckler, thousands of pugets, and a diary. He'd stumbled into the city, found a whore, and pounded into her from behind in an alley.

"Tha-at's go-od, Ri-ik!" the prostitute had wailed, her voice warbling in time with Rigabel's thrusts. "Tha-at's your na-ame, ri-ight?"

"Doesn't—ring—a— bell," he'd grunted.

Hence, his name.

After the whore, he'd found an inn and had a meal. Then he'd retired to his private room, locked the door and read the diary. It was full of such nonsense, Ringabel didn't know what to think. But he knew that he'd written it. It was inscribed in Ringabel's handwriting exactly — a weird mix of spiky marks and foppish loops. And the way his heart began to race whenever the girl, Edea, was mentioned… well, Ringabel knew he was just the type of man to be hopelessly in love with a girl like that.

As the weeks passed, between the whores and the private room at the inn, Ringabel's thousands of pugets were soon near exhausted. He started sleeping in the common room at a more affordable inn and seduced girls instead of paying them.

He had no plan, no purpose.

He did nothing but eat, sleep, screw, and wrack his empty brain.

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

It was a beautiful day, sunny and mild, but Tiz Arrior couldn't enjoy himself. He wore a smile, though, for his little brother, Til. If Tiz had been alone with the flock, he wouldn't have bothered — the sheep couldn't tell a chipper shepherd from a morose one.

But Til was sensitive. A frown from his big brother would crush him.

So even though Tiz wanted nothing more but to heave sighs and pick fights with rocks on the ground, he feigned happiness as he and Til tended their flock on the hills beyond Norende.

The problem was a creature named Nannette — the most _horrible_ girl Tiz had ever known. For the past year, she'd been in a relationship with Tiz's best friend, Cep.

Cep was the mayor's son, set to inherit a sturdy pile of pugets when his ailing father passed away. He had status, money, broad shoulders, and a cleft chin. Tiz didn't blame Nannette for being attracted to Cep for mercenary reasons. It was a hard world, and money made life softer. But what Tiz couldn't stand was the way Nannette _played_ with people.

It made him uncomfortable, seeing Nanette flirt with other men when Cep's back was turned. It made him want to weep, hearing Nanette mock Cep behind his back.

Cep wasn't blind, deaf, or dumb. He _knew_ Nannette had problems. He would unload his frustrations to Tiz after he and Nannette had their routine fights… _Nannette made a small child cry today._ _Nannette is after my family's money. I think Nannette will rejoice when my father dies_ …

Despite all this, Cep had bought a ring just months ago. Tiz's heart had dropped like an stone when he'd seen the shiny thing — real silver, with an oval moonstone. Tiz had wished he could talk Cep out of his madness, but he wasn't good with words. Cep had needed clever and careful handling, and since everything Tiz said stumbled out of his mouth, even when he practiced to the sheep, some kind of intervention had been needed.

Then Lilta had arrived in Norende.

She hadn't come with a family, despite being young. She was Tiz and Cep's age, but she'd arrived in Norende on the back of a trading wagon — just herself and a carpet bag in tow.

Lilta was lovely, even with the scar that disfigured her face — a slash from right forehead to left jaw. And with her exotic Ancheimese coloring, she made good coin reading fortunes in the town center.

On Cep's stag night, all the lads had stumbled out of the tavern and recognized Lilta across the square, parked at her little table draped in gauzy shawls. None of them had ever spoken _with_ Lilta, only about her. That night though, mead had given them courage.

Slapping down a handful of pugets, Potter had bellowed, "Read this one's cards, milady, if you please!" He'd grasped Cep's shoulders and pushed him down into the rickety chair opposite Lilta.

Lilta had shuffled her cards. She had large hands, big as a man's, but they were oddly delicate and attached to slim wrists. Her bangles flashed as she'd fanned the deck in broad arcs across the table, her gaze not fixed on her sleight of hand, but on Cep's blushing face.

When the cards had been well shuffled, Cep had drawn three cards.

"The Moth," Lilta had read. "The Flame. And Disaster."

There'd been nervous laughter amongst the party.

"What does it mean, Lilta?" Cep had said her name carefully. It was a sound that required a lot of tongue and teeth, Tiz had thought that night.

Lilta had taken Cep's hand in her own and traced a line on his palm, with one tan finger. Then she'd looked straight into Cep's eyes.

"It means that you're marrying the wrong girl." Then she'd leaned over and kissed Cep, long and smoky.

The next morning, Cep's wedding had been called off. The ring had been retrieved from the pond where Nannette had thrown it, and now it rested on Lilta's hand.

Cep was in love — for real this time. He was walking taller, speaking more slowly, and with quiet confidence. And Lilta seemed no less devoted to the Mayor's son. They were hardly ever apart.

Nannette was wrathful, but nothing she flung at Cep and Lilta could touch them. Her cruel jeers and salacious lies couldn't dampen Lilta and Cep's happines.

So Nannette had refined her approach. First, she'd taken down Yentley in his parents' barn loft. She emerged from the encounter picking straw, and the shreds of Yentley's innocence, out of her hair.

The lads had convened immediately.

"She's going under, boys, and she's taking us all with her," Potter had said grimly, clutching his glass of mead.

"Keep your pecker buttoned in and you're safe," Tom had snapped. "Nannette has _one_ mode of attack. Unless you keep your good sense in your pants, how could you ever fall for this bitch?"

"There's no need to be spewing foul language, Tom," Tiz had sputtered from behind his own tumbler of punch.

"Tiz." Tom had shook his head in disgust. " You're next, mark my words."

Tiz had wanted to dive over the table then and sock Tom in the mouth, but the saddest thing was that Tom had been right. Nannette had deemed Tiz the next weakest link on the chain.

He didn't even want to remember the details of the _awfulness_ that was Nannette's attempted seduction. It had left him feeling dirty and defiled.

Tiz's mind surfaced with a jolt. With horror, he realized he was raking his nails down his face and that Til was watching him, eyes wide with confusion. Tiz released his face immediately.

"Buddy—" he began, but then Til was speeding down their hill, pell-mell towards Lilta.

Lilta hailed them, arms held wide, the breeze whipping her clothes into a colorful whirl. She caught Til in an embrace.

Tiz made no move to go to them, but waited as Til and Lilta made their way up the footpath.

"I've brought you lunch," said Lilta when she and Til had reached him. "Nothing for you, I'm afraid," she told a curious lamb. "Go find your mother and get your meal from her." The lamb ambled off, like it understood Lilta. It was uncanny.

Not for the first time, Tiz wondered at Lilta's powers. Was she a _real_ fortune-teller? And if so, what other abilities did she have at her disposal? Could she talk to animals? Read minds? Influence people?

"Til, I've come to speak to your brother," Lilta was saying. "It's a matter of great secrecy. Could you please eat your lunch on that bluff across the way? I see there are some nice trees and a sitting rock there. And I'll come and have a nice, long visit once I've had a word with Tiz."

Til pouted a little, but took his lunch and ran off.

Tiz hadn't said anything yet. He was being rude, he knew. But Lilta's visit was so random. She'd never sought him out before.

"I sensed that you wish to speak to me, Tiz," said Lilta. She was gazing at him, blocking the sunshine with one large hand. Her eyes were keen little slits.

Tiz gulped. He was going to spill his guts, he knew it. … But would that be such a bad thing?

"Lilta, the thing is—" and then he was telling her everything. How Nannette had cornered him one night. How he'd felt repulsed at the sight of Nannette's bare body — not aroused, like a normal man.

Lilta just listened. And when Tiz was finished, she squeezed his hand.

"You don't have to worry about Nannette, Tiz," she said.

"What do you mean?" Tiz asked. "Are you going to turn her into a lizard?"

Lilta laughed, but it was strangely sad. "No. I can't do that, even if I wanted to… Take care, Tiz."

Tiz was growing alarmed for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. It was a really bad sign, right, when a fortune teller started acting like this? She was like… like a cat before her kittens came. Shifty.

"Lilta, what—"

"And when you meet the right girl, Tiz, you won't mind seeing her with her clothes off. For you, a good girl."

"I—"

"Now, I need to go make my apologies to Til. I can't stay much longer, you see. I wanted to say goodbye to you, though, in person. And good luck. Cep loves you so."

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. And then she got up and walked away towards his brother's bluff.

When Til came running back to Tiz after Lilta had gone, his little brother wasn't even winded.

"Lilta said you'd play tag with me, Tiz! Please, let's run!"

Where did his little brother get so much energy? But clearly Lilta had left Til in high spirits. He could fault neither of them for that.

So they ran and played, and even though Tiz's heart wasn't in it, he tried to be happy for Til's sake. And when the earth began to shake, Tiz was smiling widely. The shock froze him, and so he still had a stupid, rictus grin on his face when the ground split open.

And when the Great Chasm formed right before them, swallowing Norende before their eyes, his mouth was wide open, howling, as the lip of the Chasm crumbled, taking Til. Taking him…

Down.

Down.

Down.


	2. Disaster From Above, This Time

**TIZ ARRIOR**

When Tiz woke, it was to more disaster.

For days now, whenever his mind had surfaced into consciousness, his pain and desolation had sent him back under into sleep. But now, he couldn't find that oblivion. He was horribly, clearly awake.

And bombshells were raining down from the sky.

"I must beg your leave," said Sir Owen, the knight who had found Tiz the day after after the Great Chasm had appeared.

Sir Owen had had brought Tiz to the city of Caldisla, dealing first with Tiz's howling, thrashing outrage, and then his limp, compliant grief. He had brought Tiz to his own father, an innkeep, so that Tiz could recuperate from his trauma. Tiz had rested for a week, watched over by Sir Owen. But now Eternian forces were attacking the continent, and the peace of sleep had abandoned Tiz.

"So far, these missiles have been detonated on the outskirts of towns," explained Sir Owen, strapping on the broadsword that was never far from his side. "The Eternians don't appear to want to harm us. But they are spreading panic and making our citizens frantic. And they've proven that they're more than capable of harming us, if they wish it. Their airships are headed straight for Caldisla." Sir Owen ran a hand down his face, as if he could wipe the stress away with his palm.

"Let me know what I can do," Tiz said, trying to inject strength into the pitch of his voice. But, the timbre was dismayingly reedy, even to his own ears.

Sir Owen looked at Tiz with pitying eyes. "You must rest until you're healed. You may come to me and the King when you feel steady on your feet."

Tiz nodded, feeling like one of Cep's sister's bobble-headed dolls. Those dolls were gone now, Tiz supposed. Smashed at the bottom of the Chasm, wherever that lay. As were Cep's sisters. And Cep.

With a nod to Tiz and a quick embrace with his father, Sir Owen swept out of Tiz's sickroom.

Owen's father, Karl, suggested quietly that Tiz take something to eat. Some bread and soup?

A sound like thunder pulled Tiz's gaze to the window. Almost imperceptibly, the room shook. Far off in the distance, an airship hovered over Caldis. A thick column of smoke was rising from the earth below, drifting up to skim the belly of the craft. Tiz turned his head away.

Bread and soup would be nice.

 **EDEA LEE**

If Edea were a weapon, she'd be a precisely balanced, razor-sharp katana. When the blade swung, the high sing of metal cutting through air would terrify the wicked and inspire the good. For far and wide, the katana would stand for righteousness and protection.

What Edea would not choose to be — a bomb.

Ominas Crowe, Black Mage, and chief officer aboard the _Eschalot_ , ordered for another shell to be prepared.

"Bring the missile to me, before it's loaded," he commanded, raising one long-nailed finger.

Edea's fellow Sky Soldiers rushed at the words, their feet stumbling eagerly to obey Crowe's command. Edea couldn't repress a shudder.

When the bomb was held before him, the Mage hovered his hand above it, muttering strings of archaic spells. Forbidding frost and ice fractals crept over the surface of the bomb from where his hand rested.

"What is that going to do?" Edea demanded before she could stop herself. Knowing she was a fool, she pressed on. "By order of your Grand Marshall, Braev Lee, no harm is to come to these townspeople during our preliminary sweep for the Vestal."

Crowe sneered at her, revealing yellow teeth filed into points. "Learn to read between the lines, princess. Your father orders for pressure to be exerted." Crowe spread his hand as he spoke, undulating his fingers as if her were demonstrating a fine point. But the gesture had an insidious intention about it…

The air shivered and Edea's ears popped. A rush of wind battered at her, chilling her down to the bone. Around her, a few of the Sky Soldiers shivered and shifted uneasily. With a sudden burst of clarity, she knew what Crowe intended.

"You can't!" she shouted. "Changing the atmosphere so drastically will cause crops to fail. That may not harm the townspeople now, but the people will starve come time for harvest!"

Crowe laughed at her, slowly and full of malice. "Ha…. Ha…. Ha…." He pitched the bomb over the edge of the _Eschalot_.

Edea gasped, but then righted herself. The fuse on the bomb hadn't been lit. It would fall harmlessly to the earth. The townspeople were safe. She'd argued her point successfully…

Then Crowe swung his staff onto his shoulder suddenly, sighting down its end, and aimed at the falling bomb, which was arcing downward.

 _SHOOM._

A ball of fire burst out of the staff and rocketed into the dark night. Edea felt the whole ship hold its breath, waiting to see if the fireball would connect with the falling bomb…

The unmistakable sound of cracking ice split through the air, like the shrillest thunder, drilling into Edea's ears. She felt the temperature around her plunge.

Edea rushed to the side of the airship and looked down. The earth below was… scorched. Scorched with fractals of ice. From the little Caldislan village beneath them, sounds of human panic sounded.

Edea whirled around. "You're vile," she told Crowe. "An vile, evil shit-licker."

"And you, princess, are… impotent." He smiled at her, so knowing. Then he turned away and she was forgotten about.

The air was still frigid, but Edea was boiling over inside. Ominas Crowe's days were numbered. He didn't know it yet, but his final hours were ahead of him. His final breakfast. His final bomb. His final shit. His final kick in the nutsack. All leading to his final dismemberment.

She'd be a katana. Sweeping and shining with swift, furious justice.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Agnès had faith in the Crystals.

So when the girl with waist-length, brown hair, so like Agnès' own, appeared, walking straight past her hiding place, Agnès knew it was a divine miracle.

She'd never rendered anyone unconscious before. She was scared that if she thumped the girl on the head, the girl might die instead of going under. But Agnès knew that if deprived of breath, a person would pass out before they perished.

So she darted after the girl, dragged her back into the shadows of the stables, and clapped a hand over her nose and mouth.

Agnès' hand got gnawed on a bit, and the whole business was a great deal noisier than Agnès had anticipated. The girl's screams had carried. A man walking out of the tavern door had heard, walked up to them, and stood six feet away from where the girls tussled. He'd laughed, a grimy rattle of a sound, then strolled away.

Agnès hadn't known whether to be outraged or grateful.

Agnès had almost given up on the whole endeavor when the girl slumped over. In the darkness of the tavern stables, Agnès had removed her own distinctive, desert garb and swapped it for her victim's homespun peasant dress. Finally, she'd taken a bit of wooden board and written on it in mud.

Before she'd fled the village, the girl was tied up to the town well, bound and gagged, dressed in Agnès' old clothes, the sign tied to her chest reading, "WIND VESTAL." Agnès could only hope that would throw off the Eternian forces that hunted her across the continent of Caldis.

She prayed — _Let no more people lay down their lives for me, most holy Crystals. Let that girl be my final sacrifice._

 **RINGABEL**

After a number of events detailed in his diary came true, Ringabel no longer walked around Caldisla like a wounded dog.

He wouldn't call his gait a swagger, exactly, but it was true that he felt less vulnerable for knowing part of his future…

The Crystals of Luxendarc had fallen to an unknown darkness. A hole had opened in the earth, swallowing the village of Norende. Eternia had invaded Caldis, swarming the continent with airships.

True, all of these events were calamities. On top of that, the journal foretold that the world was on the precipice of utter doom.

Ringabel didn't hold that against the book.

He carried the diary everywhere with him. He kept his pugets in his money pouch, his knife in his belt, and his buckler on his back, but the diary rode in a pocket sewn into the inside of Ringabel's own jacket.

He spent his days memorizing its contents, and during his nights… well, he was frequently entangled during his nights. But afterwards — and sometimes during — he thought about the book, dreamt about the book, woke up in a cold sweat to clutch at the book.

The diary foretold impending annihilation, and maybe Ringabel should have felt concern about that. But he couldn't bring himself to get too bothered over the world's fate.

With every passing day, he grew more certain.

He had already died.


	3. Sword-Girl

**EDEA LEE**

Edea dragged the dead body of the Eternian Sky Knight to the window, cursing herself all the while.

Could she have been more foolish? Edea didn't think so. No, she'd pretty much maxed out foolishness levels for a lifetime.

Attempting to start a mutiny was the first dumb thing she did. She had thought it was smart at the time. She couldn't take on Ominas Crowe by herself — he'd turn her into a popsicle. But if others stood with her…

Her first impulse had been to stand on a table in the mess and give a rousing speech. But after some reflection, Edea had realized that strategy only worked in adventure novels. So she'd tried to be subtle. She'd approached members of the crew one by one to gauge their feelings towards Ominas Crowe's tactics. Apparently, she hadn't been as subtle as she'd thought.

A Sky Night had come to Edea in her private quarters, pretending to be sympathetic to Edea's cause. Edea had ushered the man in, eager and excited — so stupid. As soon as the door was shut the Knight had shown his true colors.

"Drop those tight pants of yours right quick, or Crowe'll hear all about your treachery, girl." He'd left no doubt of his sick intentions, touching himself lewdly over his trousers.

Edea had cut down so many straw men in her sixteen years, that grabbing Ise-no-Kami from the wall, unsheathing it in a motion, and running the Sky Knight through had been second nature. Unlike a dummy, however, the man had sprayed blood. It went everywhere; it even got in Edea's mouth.

The Knight was too bulky to fit through the window as he was, so Edea had to take off his armor first. She chucked that, then hefted the body out. He'd been heavier than a pile of boulders, but Edea was a sturdy girl, built of solid muscle.

Then came the cleanup. She incanted a simple water-summoning spell over and over again, rinsing the room, until she panted, shook, and ran with sweat — magic didn't come easy to her. She cut up her nightdress and made rags of it, mopping up the blood, wringing the mess out the window.

The biggest stain, right where the Sky Knight had died, wouldn't come out of the floorboards, so Edea had moved her bed over it.

Maybe guilt would have kept her up, or jitters from having killed her first man, but Edea was so depleted from magic use that fell asleep almost immediately after lying down.

In her dreams, she and Ise-no-Kami were one person — a sword-girl — and they were dancing at the Eternian Winter Ball. She spun in whirling circles, spun and spun, snow whipping and flying all around her, and when she stopped dancing, she saw that she'd killed every last person in the Eternian Court.

She woke up on the _Eschalot._ The dawn light flooding through the window illuminated the room. Edea lay on her back and heaved a great sigh.

She'd forgotten to clean the ceiling.

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

If you were a man and baked bread, you were a Baker. But if you were a woman and baked bread, you were just a woman.

These were the things Tiz thought about as he mixed flour and water and kneaded dough — kneaded and kneaded and kneaded some more.

Delle, Karl's wife, kneaded next to him. She hummed a song as she worked, and chattered gently about this and that, everything and nothing. Every now and then, she'd reach over and sprinkle a little something into Tiz's dough — a touch of flour, a dash or two of water, a pinch of salt — and compliment Tiz's fine kneading abilities, his strong hands, strong arms, strong shoulders, until Tiz blushed.

"Dough is like the slack tub in a forge," Delle said as they worked. "You take everything that's red-hot inside of you and put it into the bread."

Tiz did that, tried to fit Norende into his dough. Til and Grandfather. _Knead, knead._ Mother and Nana. _Knead._ Cep and Yentely and Potter. _Knead, knead, knead._ Even the crazy, vengeful Nannette got put into the bread.

Once the dough had been pummeled and pulled to Delle's satisfaction, she showed Tiz how to form it, so that the bread would come out of the oven looking like loaves, and not shapeless blobs.

They put the dough loaves on paddles and shoved them deep into the brick oven. The loaves baked fast, so Tiz had to keep a sharp eye on them, turning them with the paddle so that they cooked evenly and didn't get scorched on one side. He had to stay so close to the oven for so long, that Tiz felt partly baked, himself.

When all the loaves were cooked, Delle and Tiz stacked them onto a little cart. Della would pull it through the bad streets of the city, giving the bread away to the poor. Tiz offered to go with her, but was relieved when Delle asked him to stay and sweep the up. Flour dusted every surface of the kitchen.

Tiz swept and then scrubbed for good measure. By the time he was finished, Delle still wasn't back, but Karl said it wasn't unusual for his wife to visit with the recipients of her bread, and sometimes eat with them. Some nights, she didn't return until well past dark.

Tiz would stay up and wait.

Since Delle might not be back for another hour or more, Tiz decided to clean out the oven. The embers from the day's work had cooled, and only ashes remained. Still, the floor of the oven was hot. Tiz used a wire brush to sweep up the mess and was careful to not burn himself.

He was just finished with his task and standing around, thinking of something else to do, when Delle came in.

"Ah!" she cried, eyes huge, looking around the kitchen with amazement. "Tiz! This place is cleaner than when it was new!" Then she laughed heartily, pointing at him. "You missed a spot!"

After he'd bathed and taken his supper, Tiz retired to bed. He'd moved from his private room, where he'd languished for almost a week, to the dormitory.

The guest in the bunk next to Tiz was snoring inconsistently, and the light from the moon was bright as dawn, but Tiz found that he didn't mind being kept awake. His day with Delle had left him feeling more refreshed than his hundred hours in bed.

Lying there, Tiz found that inside his chest, there were three feelings.

The first was a light, fluttering energy. Tiz thought it might be hope.

Next to that, there was something white-hot. He'd kept it today, instead of putting it into the bread. He'd been nursing the spark of it for days, and now it was an inferno.

It was suspicion. And it had everything to do with Lilta. Lilta, who, the day of the disaster, had known what was going to happen. She had left Tiz and Til that day… walking _away_ from Norende. Away from where the Chasm formed.

Finally, there was a cold, hard stone — resolve. It throbbed in time with his pulsing heart.

 _Find Lilta, find Lilta, find Lilta…_


	4. The Price of Hunger

**AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Agnès had to eat. It was coming up on the second dawn since food had passed her lips, and she could walk no further. Unless the dirt beneath her feet suddenly turned to porridge, her journey was at its end.

The most rotten part about her fix was this — a town could be just miles away. But Agnès' map had been rained on, gotten so thoroughly soaked, that now it was unreadable.

A day ago, before the map had been drenched, she'd been heading towards a town outside Caldisla, following the road from its adjacent treeline. But then the downpour had brought travelers scurrying into the forest for cover, forcing Agnés to move deeper into the woods to avoid being seen.

That was where she'd made her mistake. At the time, she hadn't known how to get food from people without revealing herself as the hunted Wind Vestal. Now, looking back, Agnès figured there had to have been a way to take their provisions secretly.

It would have been theft, but she'd done worse things in the past few days, to keep the Eternian forces off her trail.

Crystals, she was starving…

She thought of a Fire Vestal of time past, Ursule the Devout, who was so holy that she could go days without sustenance. No bodily need could nag her away from prayers. If only Agnès could be so—

 _Crack._

Agnès had been slumped against a tree, but at the sharp sound of a stick cracking she raised herself and unsheathed her dagger. _Thank the Crystals!_ Someone or something was nearby. If it was a _thing…_ well, Agnès would kill it and eat it, no matter how foul the flesh tasted. And if it was a person… Agnès was prepared to do what was necessary.

Trying to move swiftly and silently, ignoring the hunger that stabbed through her stomach, Agnès moved through the trees, keeping low. She dialed in quickly on her target, following its shuffling-through-the-woods sounds. When she heard a human mutter, she gasped in anticipation and re-sheathed her weapon in its leather scabbard. Agnès would first try to render the target unconscious without being seen. If that didn't work… well, her dagger was sharp and ready at her hip.

She was perhaps twenty feet behind the tall, cloaked traveler, nerves stretched taut, when some sound must have betrayed her. The hooded figure spun around.

Agnès reacted, pure impulse. She sprinted at the traveler, intent on knocking him down and cutting off his rucksack.

But the impact of their two bodies did not send the traveler to the ground! Instead, Agnès was the one to fall. She thrashed to regain her feet.

She was rising when the traveler whipped out a hand and pushed Agnès over again. He was toying with her!

Agnès recovered, staying low, ramming herself into the traveler's legs with all the force of her hunger and rage. This time, the tall figure tripped, stumbled, and went falling down backwards to the forest floor. Agnès was on him then, like the starving animal she was, whipping out her dagger to hold against his throat.

But his large hand caught Agnès' wrist and pried her arm back, with all the cold, unyielding force of iron. His hand twisted at her joints and Agnès grip failed. Her dagger dropped to the ground!

Then Agnès' wrists were pinned by the traveler's knees, and his face was mere inches from her own.

It was a girl.

The traveler was a whip-boned young woman with a long scar — a slash — cutting her face diagonally. Her eyes were yellow-brown, and piercing hot.

"Well, well," said the traveler calmly, an Ancheimese accent causing her words to lilt. "It appears that Agnès the Wind Vestal is lost the woods."

 **RINGABEL**

Ringabel exited The Crown and Rose, feeling pleasantly light-headed from his three brimming glasses of summer-mead. Below the belt, his loins throbbed warmly— the pleasing after-effects of his washroom tryst with the barmaid, Else.

Coitus with Else was always remarkable. She was looser than a belt on its last notch, but she still found a way to have mystique. She was sly. Ringabel liked that. And she knew all of his hot spots, without even having to ask.

He wanted to go see if the jeweler was still open. Else would appreciate some kind of bauble, some trinket, to wear. Ringabel had only made so many pugets today, selling goblin skins to the tanner, but perhaps he could open a tab…

His proceedings, mental and spatial, were halted then by a sizable obstruction in his path — a large man.

Ringabel surveyed the giant in front of him — starting with his armored boots, up to his shining greaves, next to the hammered breastplate, and finally, to the bare, blonde head. Where was the helmet? Ah yes, tucked underneath one arm. At his hip, the largest sword Ringabel could remember ever seeing hung from an ornate scabbard. The man's left hand was resting casually on the pommel.

"How pleasant, how very pleasant," Ringabel spoke, "for a gentleman to come across another gentleman on this fair night."

The armored man gave him a slow once-over, much as Ringabel had done, only Ringabel was sure that _he_ had kept his lip from curling when he'd made his observations.

"I don't see a gentleman before me," the man said at last. It seemed like the gloves were off already.

 _Well then_.

"It is so amazing to me," Ringabel spoke, "when three-leged dogs run…when bears balance on little rubber balls… when great idiots attempt to communicate… You, sir, amaze me."

The night around them was dark and it was getting hard to see, but the shrinking whites of the man's eyes indicated that he wasn't pleased. "Your jokes and japes won't faze me,Mister Ringabel."

How did the man know him? Ringabel's head was unpleasantly clear now, his loins cold. "Have we been introduced?" he threw out, projecting as much bravado as possible in the question.

"You're a guest at my father's inn," said the man, pressing his lips together.

Ah. Ringabel bared his teeth in a false smile. "Sir Owen."

"I am here, Mister Ringabel, to escort you to my parent's establishment, where you'll retrieve your belongings and depart forthwith."

Taken aback, Ringabel reared a step. "Karl and Delle sent you?" He felt stung. He'd thought the innkeep and his wife actually… liked him. Karl patted Ringabel on the shoulder whenever they passed in the halls of the Inn. Delle dropped by his room with fresh baked bread and butter in the mornings. Now they were kicking him out?

The knight shifted, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh, I see," said Ringabel bitterly. "They don't know about your secret life as the moral police. You're planning on bouncing me hehind their backs!"

"It's for their own good," said Sir Owen, jaw setting. "My parents don't run a charity. They have bills to pay, and your presence has been hurting their clean reputation."

Ringabel could only gape. Owen's words pierced him like hot spears. To his horror, he felt tears rising in his eyes. But Sir Owen, it seemed, wasn't done talking.

"…business based on community... representative of Caldisan hospitality... no desire for its reputation to be sullied...a frequenter of prostitutes, a seducer of women, a spreader of disease…"

Ringabel had heard quite enough. He turned heel and marched in the opposite direction. Sir Owen followed him.

"Your belongings, Mister Ringabel. I will accompany you to retrieve them."

This man was a brute. Couldn't he leave Ringabel to lick his wounds in peace? Besides, everything that mattered to him was already on his person. There were no belongings to retrieve. Ringabel waved a hand in the air, trying to convey all that, knowing that if he spoke, his voice would be choked. How humiliating.

"Mister Ringabel!"

Owen's hand grabbed his elbow. Ringabel reacted without thought, violence flaring. He whipped around, simultaneously winding his arm, and pummeled Sir Owen on the one un-armored spot on his body — his face.

The knight released Ringabel, staggering backward, hand held to his nose. Ringabel's hand smarted like he'd crushed all the tiny bones in his fist. Perhaps he had. Turning, Ringabel sped-walked away from the Knight, going as fast as he could manage without actually running. Thankfully, the knight didn't follow him.

He secured a room in a foul-smelling tenement. The fee per night was more than he'd paid at Karl's Inn, and with decidedly poorer amenities, but this was the price, apparently, for being a wanton.

Ringabel lit the stubby candle in his little box of a room and bent over his diary. He mouthed the words:

 _Tiz, Agnès, Edea, and I departed Caldisla with the setting sun, embarking on an adventure to save the world._

That day would come, Ringabel promised himself. It had to.


	5. The Vestal You Could Be

**TIZ ARRIOR**

Tiz had heard the King was fat, but it was another thing altogether to see it with his own eyes.

He didn't know where to look. He thought it might be rude to meet the King's gaze, like an equal, but it seemed even more offensive to stare at his person. In the end, Tiz settled for looking at the ground by the King's boots.

"The Norende boy — Tiz," the King was projecting. "My Captain of the Guard has spoken of you." His Majesty proceeded to impart his deepest condolences, offering Tiz care and shelter in Caldisla for as long as it was needed.

 _Food may be his weakness_ , Tiz thought to himself, _but the King is very kind_. Knowing this made him feel braver, standing before royalty, as he was.

"Your Majesty, it is my intention to…" Tiz began, speaking at a normal volume, before dribbling off. The cavernous room swallowed his voice, leaving him sounding like a mouse with low self-esteem. Realizing, then, why the King had been shouting, Tiz started his speech from the beginning, this time raising his voice.

"Your highness is so very kind, but my plan is to leave for Norende straight away."

The King looked fairly shocked, but Sir Owen, standing by His Majesty's side, didn't look surprised.

Tiz tried to explain himself. "I have to go back to the Chasm… There might still be survivors…"

He'd questioned himself over and over, but in the end, Tiz had decided to keep the knowledge of Lilta — the fortune-teller who'd predicted the Great Chasm — to himself. Telling the King and Owen about her would no doubt spare him their pitying stares, but it might also spell trouble for Lilta.

Tiz felt… quite a bit for Lilta. Attraction… unfortunately, yes. Mad fury, certainly. Also — hot, searing hate. What kind of person would talk and joke around with a little boy — Til — minutes before his death, then merrily go on her way, knowing what disaster would strike?

Lilta was obviously a fortune teller of extreme power, able to predict that Disaster as she had, and Tiz had no doubt that the King would wish to speak with her, maybe detain her. And then Lilta's fate would be out of Tiz's hands.

Tiz wanted to question Lilta himself, hear her excuses with his own ears. And if she deserved death, then Tiz would kill her himself.

"The road to Norende is riddled with monsters," the king was saying. "The Great Chasm has drawn to it beasts of all stripes…"

"I'm a decent fighter, Your Majesty," Tiz replied. He swallowed hard. "Up until days ago, my life's work was defending Norende's flocks from wolves."

The King looked like he wished to object, but didn't want to offend Tiz. Finally, he said, "I am full of regret that I cannot send a party of soldiers with you, Tiz. Every man is needed in defending the city and continent against the Eternian airstrikes."

"Your Majesty is all kindness. But I am prepared to make this journey alone."

 _All the better_ , thought Tiz.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

The witch called Lilta held Agnès captive for over an hour. That's how long it took for her to cook her spell.

First, the witch had tied and trussed Agnès up against a large oak. Then she'd unloaded the contents of her rucksack. Agnès had cried out when she'd seen the food — loaves of bread, small apples, wheels of cheese…

"I would feed you," said Lilta, "but the magic will be more potent if you have an empty stomach."

"Curse you!" Agnès had spat.

Lilta had laughed (and laughed and laughed) at that.

After she'd unpacked, Lilta had disappeared for a few minutes with a small pot, returning with water and firewood. Agnès had watched with hostile amazement as Lilta built a little cone out of sticks and set it aflame using a piece of flint. Lilta caught her watching.

"The trick," she'd said, "is always carrying some tinder and kindling with you in an oilskin." She'd moved up to Agnès, holding dried grass in one hand and twigs in the other. "This," she said, fluffing the grass in front of Agnès' face, "is tinder, while these little sticks are kindling. There's a difference in size, see?"

With that little lesson completed, she'd moved back to her fire.

Agnès was utterly dumbfounded. What did this girl intend to do to her? Kill her or hold class?

"I've been dreaming of you, Agnès," said Lilta, assembling her collapsible spit. "You've been walking a hard road, it's true. Seeing those acolytes die for you can't have been easy."

Agnès gasped. How could this girl know such a thing? Surely she was—

"—A witch," finished Lilta out loud.

Agnès shuddered.

"I've been a practitioner since my first blood at thirteen," continued Lilta. "My asterisk is close." She closed her eyes and breathed in. "I can feel it."

Lilta continued to speak as she set the pot of water over the fire and began to make a soup. She listed each ingredient to Agnès, holding it up, before tossing it in the pot. _Dried mushrooms. Dried basil paste. Powedered turmeric. Noodles. Cured pork._ "I learned how to make this soup at the knee of my nanny," said Lilta proudly. "My fiancé loved it."

Agnès stomach twisted with starvation. She strained against her bindings. She couldn't help it.

And then the witch began to poison to the soup.

"These are eyes of newt," Lilta said, holding up a tiny vial full of tiny, shining black orbs. She unstopped the vial and tipped the eyes into the pot. "Mandrake root, scorched alive… goblin tongue, harvested while screaming…"

She added vile compounds until the soup bubbled and frothed at its brim. Lilta waved the steam away from her face, crinkling her nose. "I should have worn a face mask," she said. "Breathing in maledictions can't be good for the baby."

 _This girl is mad_ , thought Agnès. _Utterly and completely uncorked._

Finally, Lilta began to pack up. All of the the contents of her rucksack were re-folded, re-capped, and re-stuffed, until only the pot and the soup remained.

Agnès held in her fury until Lilta shrugged on her pack and made to leave — then she screamed — "What is the point of all this?! _What have you done?!_ "

Lilta turned back to face Agnès, the most wicked smile pulling at her lips.

"Like I said before, I've been dreaming of you, Agnès. I've been dreaming of your past, and of your journey to come. I've seen the Vestal you are… the Vestal you could be."

Agnès unease was acute, now. As was her hunger, her rage, her fatigue. She was sweating and panting, ill to the bone. The moments ahead, she realized, would see her alive or dead. Lilta would tip the scales, and as of now, she was enjoying shaking those scales in Agnès' face.

"The Twelve Keystones of the Vestals can be so archaic, don't you think?" said Lilta abruptly. "'VII — Vestal, Thou Shalt Not Cleave Thine Hairs on Thy Head, For They Art Thine Adornment…' That one is especially odd. I mean, those crazy, long hairdos make you girls look like fanatics. And 'IX — Vestal, No Part of Thy Body Shall Touch the Organ of Man.' That's kind of a bummer, right? You might not know this, but touching the organ of man — with _all_ parts of your body — can be absolutely splendid."

Agnès had never gritted her teeth so hard in all her life, she was certain. "The Keystones," she bit out, "are Holy Tenets, bequeathed to us by the Crystals themselves. Adherence to their law ensures a life of perfect service… an afterlife of sacrosanct harmony with the Crystals' Divine Light."

"And what about Keystone XI?"

Agnès knew the Keystones by heart. She started reciting XI, full of righteous indignation. "'Vestal, No Life Shall Be Laid Down for You, Only Yours Lain For Others'…" She hadn't even finished speaking the Keystone aloud when the sting of guilt and wave of sick understanding overcame her. The Acolytes. The Village Girl she'd framed…

"That's right, Agnès. Many people have laid down their lives for you on your journey, already, and it's only just begun." Lilta tapped the pot of cursed soup smartly with the toe of her boot. "Consider this potion a blessing. Not only will it save your life today, but it will save the lives of countless others who might have died because of you."

"What will it do to me?"

" _ **The disaster waylaid by sacrificing another's life for your own… will return to you, threefold."**_

With those words, Lilta spat in the soup. Then she hitched up her rucksack and started walking away.

"Wait!" Agnès screamed. "How will I get loose?!"

"Twist the loose end of the rope and push it through the knot!" Lilta shouted. "The Great Chasm lies to the North, half a day's journey. Keep the mossy side of the trees to your back as you walk and you'll be there in no time!"

It took some doing, but eventually Agnès figured out the knot. Pulling free, she staggered forward and fell to her hands and knees in front of the pot. Gripping it with both hands, Agnès peered inside. She could see the remains of Lilta's spit, floating amid bulbous lumps in a green broth. With shaking hands, she tipped the pot to her open mouth, careful not to spill a single drop.

It took ten gulps and a lot of chewing and crunching to finish the soup. After it was gone, she ran a finger around the pot, under its curved lip. Bits of soup sometimes got stuck there, she knew. Sure enough, a newt eye had gotten caught. Agnès put it in her mouth and popped it with her teeth. The eye was salty, a brine on her tongue.

Lilta had been right. Agnès had lost her way. She'd lost touch of what it meant to be a Vestal. Perhaps she'd never really known what it meant at all. But she'd been given a second chance.

She'd find out.


	6. How To Pray

**AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Agnès knew that she was a vestal in nothing but name. She knew this by fact of her questionable impulses, her poor actions, and her sorry ignorance. But she was trying to be better. So when the cryst-fairy appeared to her in the woods, a divine creature as yet unknown to Agnès, she accepted the aquisition of Airy as another step on her path to becoming an enlightened vestal.

"I've been sent to guide you on your way!" Airy had chirped.

And Agnés needed guidance. Lilta the Witch's spell, promising disaster should Agnès sacrifice a life in favor of her own, would help Agnès measure her every action and intention. But Agnès needed an advisor. She didn't like what it said about herself, but she'd always been most comfortable being led.

There was just one hole in the kettle.

"As proof of my powers, I offer you a prediction!" the fairy had cried. "At our destination, the Great Chasm, you will meet a traveling companion!"

"A companion?" Agnes had gasped, dismayed. "You mean, another one? Besides you?"

"A boy," Airy blew on. "A _young man_. A survivor of the Disaster of Norende!"

"And this is unacceptable," Agnès had countered. "I've just recommitted myself to a life of perfect service. As an affirmation, you have been sent by the Crystals to be my guide. Becoming entangled with a man is my furthest wish!"

Airy had drooped, like a parched flower. The sight was so pathetic that Agnès had changed the subject, asking for more information on cryst-fairies instead.

"We're a manifestation of the Crystals' Holy Will!" Airy was now chirping. "A representation of the covenant between the Crystals, the worshipped, and mankind, the worshippers. We are conjured only in moments of dire need. Right before the darkness consumed the Wind Crystal, I was formed. But you took off from the Temple of Wind so fast that I've had trouble keeping up with you!" The fairy pouted, her tiny bottom lip jutting.

"I'm sorry, Airy," Agnès, feeling as if she were cajoling a child. "But at least we're together now."

"Right!" Airy brightened. "Not much further from here! Vista Norende, ahead!" The fairy shot forward, glowing like a lantern in the dark night. She bobbed slightly as she flew, like a butterfly, and Agnès found herself cheered by the sight.

All of her comfort vanished, however, at the sight of the Great Chasm.

It was a wound in the earth torn open. The walls of the world, collapsed.

Agnès fell to her knees to pray.

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

Tiz had thought searching the perimeter of the Chasm for clues would help him find Lilta.

He'd been so very wrong.

Starting out from Caldisla that morning, Tiz had been full of hope and resolve. How quickly it had all drained away.

He'd chosen to traverse the Norende Ravine, a place full of memories…

Some years, Tiz, Cep, and the boys would travel to Caldisla for the Harvest Festival and they always took Norende Ravine to get there. It was the fastest route, if not the safest. On the rare case that they were beset by goblins, the boys had always joked around and grandstanded during the fights, swinging their swords in wacky figure-eights, so sure of their safety in numbers.

Tiz felt lonely now, navigating the Ravine by himself. The sounds from falling rocks echoed in the ravine, and every time Tiz was certain he heard the laughter of his friends.

The goblins were thicker than he'd ever seen them, and Tiz found himself sweating, his heart palpitating, as he faced more and more encounters. Fortunately, Sir Owen had gifted him with a hundred pugets before he left — enough to buy a buckler and a pair of bronze gauntlets. Luckily too, Tiz had stumbled across a potion in a traveler's chest. He had a feeling he'd need it for the trip back… if he _did_ turn back, that was.

Part of him knew that Lilta and her secrets were long gone. But another part of him didn't care — he needed to try and find her. To question her and make her answer for what she'd done… so many precious lives wiped out, when she knew enough to save them all… The problem was, he had no leads.

 _Where would Lilta go? Home?_

Tiz knew that Lilta was born in the Harena region, near Ancheim, but he had no idea what village she belonged to. Or, didn't she belong to a tribe? And weren't tribes nomadic?

Added to that, Tiz didn't know if he was capable of traveling to Ancheim to pursue such a flimsy lead. He didn't have the money for a berth, nor the talent in battle to take on foreign beasts. The monsters in Caldisla were the tamest in Luxendarc, and they were what Tiz was accustomed to battling. Speaking of which, there was another goblin in front of him, shaking his spear in Tiz's face.

Tiz waited until the goblin was raising his spear in a kind of weedy battle cry, then took it out with a stab in the armpit. The sharp blade of his dagger pierced the monster's heart. The bulbous, warty thing gurgled and collapsed into magic dust.

" _Critical Hit!_ " Tiz said, aping a ring-fight announcer's unctuous tones. It was the kind of stupid thing Potter would always shout after an easy kill.

Tiz's low mood only plummeted the closer he got to Norende Vista. All across the walls here, generations of Norende's lovers had carved their initials in the stone. Tiz's own parents had inscribed their names on the ravine walls. It was a story Tiz's father had liked to tell, before he died. His buddies had erected some scaffolding so that he and Tiz's mom could carve "TAM + ADELA" high on the ravine wall. The names were still there, untouched by the years.

Cep and Nannette's names should be… well, it should have been right there. Apparently someone, maybe Nannette, had taken a chisel to where the carving once laid. Chunks of stone were gauged out where their names had been.

Crazy, villainous Nannette… Tiz wished he had taken the time to talk with her. Maybe he could have helped her in some way. Cooled her troubled spirit, like he did sometimes with Til, when his little brother was upset. He'd always been good at that…

Tiz was at the ravine's end, a narrow, arch-like formation leading to the Vista, when he saw it. Right above the rock gate:

 _LILTA + CEP_

 _FOREVER YOUNG_

Rage flooded Tiz. The nerve of her. _The nerve of her._

' _Forever Young?_ ' Even in the heat of her affair with Cep, Lilta had known enough about Norende's impending doom to carve an epitaph.

With fresh hatred in his heart, Tiz marched out of the Ravine, out towards Vista Norende.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Prayer had confused Agnès when she was a little girl — a vestaling. She couldn't remember anyone ever explaining to her how to do it. She'd just been instructed to _pray_ , gentle hands on her shoulders pushing her to her knees.

Agnès could never focus her mind. She would shift around, impatient, during those long hours bent before the Crystal.

"This station is not for everyone, Agnès," Hélène, the Wind Vestal, had told her. "Out of hundreds of vestalings, only four will rise to take our places upon our deaths. Many times, we know before the Rite of Ascension if a vestaling is not fit."

The words were not spoken unkindly, but they'd scorched Agnès nonetheless. Discouraged, she'd given up on trying to pray, and just let her mind meander. And with that, the miracle had happened…

She'd always spoken, in her head, to a person — the person who'd found her as an infant, cast aside on the streets of Ancheim. He or she had cared for Agnès, kept her fed and content. Then, when she was weaned, that person had taken the long trek through the desert to entrust Agnès to the acolytes at the Temple of Wind.

The acolytes wouldn't tell Agnès anything about the person who'd delivered her. All they would say was that Agnès was the healthiest, happiest baby they'd ever clapped eyes on.

But what kind of person would do such a thing? Give _so much_ to a cast-off infant?

Agnès would speak to her savior in her secret thoughts, thanking them over and over. She'd ask her savior advice, or complain about the hard bunks, the watery gruel, the long hours on her knees. Agnès was a quiet child, but she had so much to say.

 _The Vestal Hélène spoke to me in her chambers yesterday. She told me how the next caravan that passes through will depart with me. It will take me to Ancheim, where I'll work as a maid in the house of a temple benefactor. These hours of prayer may be some of my last._

 _I am sorry I failed you. You intended for me to stay here, did you not?_

 _I wish I could say I looked forward to this next chapter in my life, but all I feel is unease. Why? When I've done so little but complain about my life here._

 _My one comfort, going into the world I've never known, is that people like you exist. We vestalings hear so much about the wickedness outside these walls. And while I know the acolytes would not lie about such things, it can't be the whole truth. Not when someone like you lived._

On the day she'd thought those words to her savior, her _friend_ , Agnès had felt an energy rising in her, starting in her chest, spreading throughout her entire body. Opening her eyes, she stared at the Crystal before her. It burned her eyes, making tears pour down Agnès face.

 _Please, my friend, give me the strength, the courage, to stem the tide of evil in the world. Wherever I go, whatever I become, let me be a light. Your light._

"The Crystal! It glows!"

 _I feel such love for you, my friend, whoever you are._

"Ah! The Crystal!"

Agnès had come back to herself. Her face was wet. Her eyes burned. What kind of thrall had she been under?

The acolytes were buzzing around her, shaking the shoulders of the vestalings with excitement, pointing towards the looming Crystal, which, surely enough, was emitting an unearthly light.

"The Crystal reacts to your prayers, children! See how it radiates its Divinity!"

A hand gripped her shoulder. Agnès spun around. It was Hélène. The Vestal looked at Agnès like she'd never seen her before.

That had been the beginning.

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

The sight of the Great Chasm pitched Tiz onto the ground.

It was the stuff of nightmares. A sore, emanating evil.

Tiz had thought he could take this. That he could keep his mind clear when he returned the site of the Disaster. But he'd been wrong. He heart felt flayed.

His breath was coming in great, hitching gasps. What kind of malevolence lay before him? What evil had taken Norende?

Surely it was force greater than Tiz could ever hope to overcome. This was an evil that could swallow the world.

He'd been so foolish to think he could fight it — what had done this. He had thought he could make a difference. So stupid.

There was only one thing left to do, now. One thing he _could_ do.

He must throw himself over the edge of the Chasm.

His feet moved him to the precipice...

...

Then a voice. Clear and pure. Its words reached him through the fog of his pain and confusion.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

 _Friend. Whoever you are. Wherever you are. Do you see this chasm of evil before me? I tremble at the sight of so much devastation. I can sense the fear of those who were taken. The desolation of those left behind._

 _I am so afraid… I fear this evil. I fear that I am not strong enough to stem the tide of its power._

Let _me be strong enough._

 _Let me have the strength to weather this evil. To hold up the walls of the world._

 _And perhaps…_

 _Grant me the strength to fight._

 _Grant me the strength to fight this evil._

…

"You there."

Agnès spun around, whipping her dagger free from its sheath.


	7. Have I Done a Bad Thing?

**EDEA LEE**

Edea never realized just how tiny the _Eschalot_ was until she was a murderess. The Sky Knight she'd run through, a Lt. Bern, was noted missing an hour after Edea had finished erasing all the traces of his blood from her room.

Bern's friends had reported to Ominas Crowe that the lieutenant had snuck off the night before, saying only that he "had places to be." Edea was glad he hadn't been more forthcoming with his friends — "Lads, I'm off to sexually extort the mutinous Grand Marshall's daughter. Wish me luck!"

But this, the suspicious disappearance of a lieutenant… that was grounds for Crowe's command to be questioned!

When she first realized it, Edea's heart had leapt in her chest. Perhaps her problems with the Black Mage would be solved by her unfortunate accident. The Council would find Crowe unfit to lead, and a better, saner replacement would take the helm of the _Eschalot_!

Almost as soon as she'd rejoiced, however, she'd come to her senses. They were a long way from Eternia, where such a review would take place. And her attempted mutiny had ended in disaster. She was back at square one, an unwilling pawn commanded by a powerful nutcase.

"We must refuel at Lontano Villa!" Ominas Crowe was braying on the quarter deck. "Our own Eternian knight-errant — Argent Heinkel — has secured the lov-e-ly hilltop retreat for our land base." The mage spun towards Edea. "YOU — Grand Marshall's Daughter!"

Edea teeth clenched. "Sir," she bit out.

"Recite, for the crew's benefit, a fully updated report of our mission."

Well. She could do that in her sleep. Her father was always asking her for reports. Just two weeks ago it had been her mother's birthday and Edea and her father had planned a dinner…

 _Edea, report on our plans for your mother's cake. Is the icing imported or domestic? … Edea, what is the ETA on your mother?… Edea, what is your read on the menu?… Edea, the scallops are overcooked! Report!_

"Sir," she began, "exactly one week ago, news reached the Eternian capital that the Crystals of Luxendarc have been corrupted by evil. The Crystal Orthodoxy offers no explanation for these calamities, nor does it offer a plan of how to stem the tide of darkness. In response to this threat, the Council of Six have ordered for Orthodoxy leaders, including the vestals, to be detained and questioned."

Edea paused, checking for Crowe's reaction to her words thus far. He looked faintly pleased. Repulsed, Edea continued on. "The _Eschalot_ , one of three airships tracking the Vestal of Wind, followed credible leads to Caldis. Since then, sightings of the Wind Vestal on this continent have grown, and while false leads have been planted by the Vestal and her allies, we understand that she is headed to, or near, the capital city of Caldisla—"

"CALDISLA!" the mage bellowed, striking his rod to quarterdeck. A plume of fire erupted from the weapon. Edea jumped. Cries and exclaimations emanated from the crew.

"The fox has taken to its den!" Crowe foamed. "This is great news. Very great news, indeed!"

Edea just couldn't help it. She spoke. "What do you mean?"

Crowe looked overjoyed to explain himself. "Have you ever been on a hunt, milady?"

Of course she had, and she began to say so, but Crowe wasn't done speaking.

"When a rabbit has fled into its burrow, a badger into its lair—"

Edea knew where the mage was going with this. "The comparison doesn't work, sir," she objected. "Setting fire to an animal's den makes it run straight into the hunter's grasp, but an entire city? The whole of Caldisla would pour out of its gates… We'd lose the vestal in the crowd!"

"How very astute, Grand Marshall's Daughter," replied Crowe, smiling yellowly. "Which is why only part of Caldisla will burn… the inn where the vestal is sleeping!"

Crowe whipped out a sheaf of papers from the inside of his cloak and unfolded them. He began to read.

"'To the Eternian Sky Fleet Commander' — dah dah dah, dah dah — 'Although it gives me great pain to write this, I must hold my silence no further. The woman you seek — Agnès Oblige, Vestal of Wind — _lately resides in Caldisla, at No.12 Flagstaff Lane!_ The owners of this establishment, Mr. And Mrs. Druthers…The Dockside Inn, reported to me this morning that Oblige took a room' — How about that!"

Crowe licked his finger and flipped to the next page of the letter. "'In giving the vestal to you, I hope to stem the devastation which a continued occupation' — dah dah dah, dah dah dah — 'to verify my identity, I enclose my signet ring, although I entreat you — keep my interference in this matter as secret as you can. If my king found out, things would not go well for me or my family. I beg of you, take the vestal, and depart the land of Caldis in peace. Yours & etc., Sr. Owen, Captain of the Royal Guard, Caldis…'"

Gasps were sounding from all around her. Edea couldn't help but drop her jaw, herself. The vestal… betrayed by the Captain of the Caldislan Royal Guard!

"Sky Knights!" cried Crowe, "we must prepare to dock at Lontano Villa. However, this very day we shall march to Centro Keep, and then, under darkness of night, enter the city of Caldisla. We shall take ourselves to 12 Flagstaff Lane and _apprehend the vestal_!"

Cheers from the crew blasted Edea's ears. She fought the urge to cover them with her hands. She should be cheering along with them right now. Why, then, did she feel so removed? So displaced?

Lotano Villa in the near distance caught her eye. She gasped.

"Commander Crowe! There is no docking station for an airship!"

"Send the anchor through the roof!" screamed Crowe, shooting another plume of fire from his rod.

The crew roared its approval.

Edea couldn't help it. She gulped.

 **RINGABEL**

When Ringabel returned to 12 Flagstaff Lane, mid-afternoon, he went straight to his bed and fell into it. Delivering that letter right into Eternian territory hadn't been easy, and he'd had a bad scuffle with a Sky Knight who wished to apprehend him. But Ringabel had to be here, at the Dockside Inn, when the Eternians struck it. That was the whole point.

The other night, when Sir Owen had confronted him on the street, Ringabel had taken his signet ring. The punch to Owen's nose had been a distraction, albeit a highly satisfying one. It had been maneuver requiring great dexterity, but Ringabel had done it — he'd ripped the signet ring right off the flimsy chain around Owen's neck as the Knight had stumbled back from the punch. There hadn't been a plan for the ring at that time, but Ringabel couldn't stand the Knight's moral superiority.

It wasn't long though, before he'd figured a way to align his possession of the signet ring with his own goals. What he needed to do was make an event happen. A tiny disaster. Edea would come down from her airship like a princess from a tower. Agnès would come out of hiding, like the hero she was meant to be. Tiz would come running after her, like her true lover.

And Ringabel?

He'd be waiting for them with open arms.


	8. You Were Not Meant To Carry This Burden

**TIZ ARRIOR**

Missiles hurtling through the air. Shuddering impacts. Flames. Explosions of shrapnel. Waves of smoke.

Tiz knew better than to try to dodge the bombs. He just gripped the girl's hand and ran through the ravine. A moving target was much more difficult to hit than a stationary one.

"Eternian Sky Knights!" the girl had cried, when the airship had attacked them at Norende Vista. "I thought I'd covered my tracks!"

Tiz had a suspicion — a sneaking suspicion — that this girl might be the Vestal of Wind, the religious figure the Eternians were after. For one thing, she was strange. The long hair, past her waist… Her formal way of speaking… The incredible way she had prayed in front of the Great Chasm… And then—

An explosion shattered the ravine wall next to them. Tiz dove to the ground, pulling the girl with him. He covered her body with his own, trying to protect both their heads. Shrapnel ripped at his back.

" _NO!_ " cried the girl. She wriggled free, moving like a greased weasel. Then she was on her feet, running, disappearing into the smoke. Tiz scrambled to take after her. She seemed intent on outrunning him, more so than the Eternian missiles. Tiz wanted to stop and argue with her, but now was hardly the time.

He settled for, "Look out!"

Above them, oily ropes had descended from the airship and two armored men were sliding down them, into the ravine.

"We have company!"

The girl spun around and rejoined him. Finally, some sense from her! She knew they'd be much better off in a fight, the two of them.

One of the Sky Knights held a pike. It was a horrible weapon, one that Tiz knew only from illustrations. He had no idea how to counter it. The second Knight had a bow and arrow. He was standing behind the pikeman trying to get a bead on them through the smoke…

"Keep moving! The bowman!" Tiz shouted to the girl.

But she was already weaving past the deadly tip of the pike — she had the quickest feet Tiz had ever seen. The knight's large weapon moved too sluggishly to keep up with the girl, and his armor weighed the man down. She got in close and then thrust her dagger into the vulnerable space between the man's breastplate and helmet. Blood spurted out — she dodged that, too. But then she was crumpling to the ground, an arrow stuck out of her shoulder.

The bowman!

Tiz charged the second Sky Knight — the bow and arrow were useless in close quarters. Seeing Tiz coming, the knight fumbled for his dagger, but Tiz was already slicing through his neck — the same place the girl had targeted on the pikeman. The bowman crumpled.

Tiz turned around, flushed… to see that the girl was already running off. The bloody arrow which had impaled her lay on the ground, by the corpse of the pikeman. She'd already pulled it out!

 _Headstrong girl!_

"Wait!" he yelled to her, running to keep up. "I have a potion!"

The girl had slowed, allowing Tiz to reach her, and had accepted the magical restorative. It was a good thing, too, because several more Sky Knights had down from the airship, which was tailing them from above.

Battling three knights had been an even greater challenge, but the girl's quick feet and Tiz's fast concentration helped see them through alive — and their enemies dead. Even better, the they'd been able to salvage some useful materials from the bodies… potions, antidotes, and even a single feather of Phoenix Down. Tiz had been amazed at the sight of it. It was the first he'd ever seen. To think, that it could revive you from death…

"The bombshells!" the girl cried, breaking his mesmerization. "We must keep moving!"

Tiz pocketed the Phoenix Down and ran after her.

The airship sent more Sky Knights after them, but with the potions keeping them fresh, Tiz and the girl had no problem taking the henchmen out. Tiz had never felt so strong — or so brave.

When the airship had flown off… well, if Tiz had a hat he would have thrown it in the air. He felt flush with victory! As it was, he settled for a spinning jump, thrusting his fist towards the sky. The girl had looked pleased, but had simply brushed at her skirts. Tiz raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged, then gave a little, lopsided curtsy.

Tiz was thoroughly charmed.

"I still haven't gotten your name, miss," he said. "Mine's Tiz Arrior."

The girl smiled at him. It was a smile like she couldn't help herself. "Agnès. Agnès Oblige."

 _Agnès…_

"AND I'M AIRY!"

"Aaugh!" Tiz recoiled, then whipped out his dagger. "A miniature monster!" They needed to be quick! Why wasn't Agnès reacting?!

But she was… smiling…

"Ugh, _rude!_ " the monster was saying. It was surprisingly verbose for an evil beast…

"I'm a cryst-fairy!"

That… didn't sound so bad? Tiz let his dagger drop, just a little. Agnès still had a little smile on her face.

"Fire, water, wind, earth. Four crystals," the little monster was saying. "Four pillars of the world." It flitted its wings, its glow brightening. "Agnès is the vestal of wind. She tends the Wind Crystal!"

Well, that confirmed Tiz's suspicions… He peered at Agnès. She was looking down at her muddy shoes. She was the picture of humility, not appearing for the world like a famous Crystalist icon. Then again, she was not denying little monster's words.

"Vestal?" he prompted her.

She rose her gaze to meet his. Her eyes fairly shone with intensity. "Priestess, bride, and servant to the Crystals," she recited. "A weaver of prayers who ensures their eternal glow." She took a deep breath. "Our rites purify the Crystals, warding the world from disaster…"

Ah. And there it was. Her connection with the Great Chasm. When Tiz had first approach her at Norende Vista, interrupting her lovely prayer, he'd been certain that she'd known something about how the Disaster had happened. He'd just started to question her when the Eternian airship had struck. Agnès had tried to go her own way, but Tiz had quickly convinced her to escape with him through Norende Ravine…

But now he could ask the questions that burned at him.

"What purpose would bring a vestal here?" he said, carefully.

Agnès bowed her head and began to speak. "A week prior to this day… the same moment the ground parted under Norende… the Crystal of Wind was consumed by an unnatural darkness." Her eyes grew moist, but she continued on. "The Crystals are the source of all life. They sustain the world. But a foul corruption has taken them." Agnès bowed her head, shaking it back and forth. "The wind lies still, the oceans rot, fire runs wild, and the earth…" She took a shuddering breath. "At this rate, the world will be shrouded in a darkness… fit to blot out all life from existence. Already monsters rise…"

"There's always been monsters in Luxendarc," Tiz protested.

"Not like this. Monsters rise, unlike those the world has ever seen." She lifted her gaze to his once again. "I had to see the Chasm for myself."

Tiz nodded. He understood her compulsion. He'd felt it, too. But had she felt that sick draw, when she looked inside of the Chasm? It was almost a voice, compelling him…

"I know how to unmake it."

Tiz snapped his gaze to Agnès. "Unmake it… unmake the Chasm!?"

"Agnès nodded. "How to unmake it and how to stop the coming dark." She gestured towards the fairy-monster. "Airy has confided the solution. I must kneel before the Crystals and release the prayers of generations… I… I must return to Ancheim."

"Let me go with you. Let me help you." The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through. "I'll do anything. Be anything you need!"

" _NO!_ " Agnès shook her head furiously."I'm afraid you cannot accompany me any further! Already you've done too much. Trying to protect me as you did… it was too much. I never asked for it." She bowed her head towards him, a formal gesture. "I apologize… I thank you for everything, but our paths must diverge here. Airy and I must leave. Goodbye."

Tiz gaped. "There's only one road back to town…"

Agnès was silent. Her eyes flicked towards the pathway leading out of the ravine.

"I assume you want to go to town. Speak to the King? That's where I'm headed as well."

The monster called Airy giggled behind her tiny palm. Agnès turned to the flying creature.

"Airy, are you certain this young man is the one you foretold?"

"Of course!" the fairy shone excitedly. "Right time, right place. He's your miracle man." She chirped, a shrill, but not unpleasant sound. "I'd bet my wings on it."

"Miracle man?" Tiz rubbed his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Agnès said quickly. "Just a prediction Airy made…"

"Well, there's nothing miraculous about me. My family is dead, my friends are gone, my town is… there's no miracle about any of this… about any of me."

Agnès was silent.

"Look," said Tiz, uncomfortably. "Let's get started towards Caldisla. The Eternians may be gone, but goblins still swarm in these crevices."

Agnès bowed her head once again. It was a gesture Tiz was already becoming familiar with.

"As you wish," she said. "We will see each other to the city and to the king. He will know of a way I can cross the rotten seas to return to Ancheim. But then our paths will part… You were not meant to carry this load."

Somehow, Tiz knew better than to argue with Agnès at this point. But he had no intention of leaving her anytime soon.

"I forgot to ask you," he said, as they exited the ravine, the sky opening around them. "Did you see anyone around the Great Chasm… before you met me?"

"What do you mean?"

"A woman… a younger woman. Her name is Lilta."

He saw it. He saw Agnès eyes widen, her back stiffen.

But she said, "No. I saw no one of that description."

So cool that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.


	9. Something Doesn't Feel Right, Here

**AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Whatever Agnès had been expecting of the King of Caldisla, it hadn't been… that. He was the size of two men, and had the good humor of three.

"Tiiiiiz," the man had boomed upon seeing Agnès' new — and temporary — friend. "I'm both shocked and relieved to see you! Have you seen? Do you know? But of course, the outskirts of the city are now crawling with Eternian war mongers! How did you elude them?"

"Your majesty," spoke Tiz, "I had the aid of my traveling companion in battle. She is an accomplished fighter! May I introduce…"

It seemed Tiz was remembering that he had no leave from Agnès to make her introduction. It was all right. Agnès would do the deed herself.

She raised her voice to a level befitting the Great Hall in which she stood. "Your majesty, I extend my deepest apologies for the plight I have brought upon your kingdom. I am Agnès Oblige, Vestal of Wind."

The King gasped, clutching at his chest. The guards around him shifted their weapons and eyes uneasily.

Agnès hurried onward. "I have heard that the Eternian airship, the very one that pursued me earlier this day, has made berth in a lake southwest of the city. Its cannons are trained upon Caldisla. I came here to tell you — I will resolve the matter."

With that, she made a brief, little bow and began to stride out of the Great Hall. At any moment, she expected to hear the words — _stop her!_ But they never came.

"Wait — Agnès!" Tiz was running after her, his voice hushed. "I thought you were going to ask the king for passage to Ancheim! What do you mean, you'll 'resolve the matter?'"

Agnès made no answer, but pushed through the cavernous doorway. She marched towards the exit to the outdoors, resolute.

Tiz was still with her. He was gaping at her. "You can't mean… Don't tell me you're thinking of storming the Eternian camp! You can't do that alone!"

Agnès, feeling safer for being outside the Great Hall, turned to face Tiz, her lips set primly. "I'm well aware that I'm no match for an airship, Tiz."

"Then you can't be… Agnès, no!"

"As long as people of Caldisla are held hostage, I have no choice." Agnès bowed her head.

 _Please, friend, grant me the courage to see this decision through._

"You can't give yourself up!"

"It's not your decision to make."

Agnès thought of that moment in that great ravine, when the Eternian airship had been lobbing bombs at them. The shells had slammed into the rock walls around them, shattering the stone into hundreds of sharp missiles. Tiz had covered her body with his to protect her from the deadly shrapnel. So gallant… But he hadn't known what calamity he would bring on her by giving his life for hers. The words of Lilta's curse ran through her mind…

 _ **The disaster waylaid by sacrificing another's life for your own will return to you, threefold.**_

After his chivalrous maneuver, she'd put Tiz in his place— as firmly as she could. She'd been so proud of herself for that. She'd felt brave and independent. But now… an _entire city_ sat poised in danger if she didn't give herself up to the Eternians. And she was torn.

Agnès might have fled before. And the temptation was so great now! With Airy's guidance, Agnès was so very close to saving the world from evil. All she had to do was return from Ancheim, where she'd been just days before, and pray to the Crystal. She could do that! She'd been praying to the Crystal her entire life.

But to sneak off and flit away… leaving all these Caldislans for dead? She knew what the Witch, Lilta, would have to say about that.

 _Remember, Agnès, Keystone XI:_ ' _Vestal, No Life Shall Be Laid Down for You, Only Yours Lain For Others…'_

So, no. Both principles and the curse kept her in check. She would deliver herself to these Eternians and save both Caldisla and the continent.

She didn't know what would happen after that. Would the Eternians… would they harm her?

Airy the cryst-fairy had an idea, though — "A good one!" she insisted. "When you get captured, find a way to get the airship to Ancheim! That's your ticket across the sea!"

Tiz was staring at the fairy, dumbstruck.

"It's true," Agnès began, "no sailing ship can traverse the seas now that it's rotted."

Tiz turned his outraged expression onto Agnès. "You can't be serious… Agnès, they'll _kill you!_ "

The blunt words made Agnès shudder. But over that fear, a fresh vein of anger pulsed. "I'll not ask you again," she told Tiz sharply. "Leave us. You are too eager to meddle in the affairs of others." She pinched her lips together and gave him a curt nod. "Farewell."

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

Spinning around, she strode away towards the city exit.

 _What a silly…_

"Agnès, wait!" Tiz called after the vestal. "That road leads to the graveyard! It's a dead end."

Agnès stopped, then turned around. Her face was a blushing inferno. "Which… which way is the lake?"

Tiz grinned. "I'll show you the way there."

"That's… that's just not acceptable!" Agnès sputtered.

"It's a grand idea," piped Airy. "With your sense of direction, Agnès, it'll take us ages to find the airship."

Well then. It seemed he had an ally in the Airy the fairy. He would try to stop thinking of her as a little monster inside his head.

Agnès, still looking mortified, conceded to the advice of the cryst-fairy. "Very well then. I ask you to accompany us to the lake." She sniffed slightly, lifting her chin into the air. "But _only as our guide._ Is that clear?"

"Crystal!" beamed Tiz. "But before we go, we need to make a stop."

/ / /

Tiz wished he could relish the powerful weight of his new broadsword, but he was too worried about Agnès to appreciate the weapon the way it deserved.

It was five miles to the lake from the city walls. That didn't give Tiz a lot of time to convince her that her idea — of giving herself up to the Eternians — was complete lunacy.

He wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but at some point, Tiz had devoted himself this strange girl. Maybe it was when she'd said she could undo the Chasm. Perhaps it had been before he'd clapped eyes on her, when her prayer had called him back from the edge.

Regardless, he was going to accompany Agnès on her journey, whether she liked it or not. And as of now, that was definitely _not._

"The lake and airship are within sight," she was saying. Her lofty tone couldn't hide the tremble in her voice. "You can turn back now. At any time."

"I said I'd see you to the lake," Tiz countered.

Agnès sighed impatiently, but Tiz could tell it was a front. The vestal was terrified. Why was she so intent on sacrificing herself? Not only did she not want to do it, not _really_ , it also wasn't the smartest path.

As if reflecting Agnès' poor decision, the trail beneath their feel was rocky and full of roots. They had to keep their eyes on their feet while walking… not that the view was any wonderful thing to look at and ponder. To their right, there were dark, tangled woods leading to the Peninsular Mountains. Intermittently, the bellows and shrieks of creatures would sound from the far distance in the forest. The place looked to be a breeding ground for fiends. And to their left, there lay the rotted sea, stiller than a glass of dusty water on a bedside table. The ocean stank, for all the world like a great, dirty bathtub. Monsters were probably stewing in there as well…

Tiz supposed the landscape would have been something fine, were evil not encroaching upon the world.

As for Lake Caldis, Tiz had never been there, but he'd heard that city-dwellers flocked to its shores in droves during the summer months. He doubted there would be any beach-goers there today, however, being that an Eternian airship floated upon its waters.

That airship was growing closer and closer. Tiz could see a small party of Eternians on the shoreline of the lake — very small. Only two people were visible. It was hard to tell from this distance, but he could have sworn they were arguing.

"Agnès," Tiz said, hushing his voice. "Perhaps we ought to approach through the cover of the woods. Before you give yourself up" — _over my dead body,_ he thought — "we can eavesdrop and get some information from those Eternians."

Agnès, frowned, thoughtfulness replacing a bit of the terror on her face. "They do look absorbed in their discussion…" She bit her lip. "…Yes. I think you're right, Tiz. A covered approach is the best strategy."

Tiz pumped his fist behind Agnès' back. He had her thinking in more strategic terms now. And more, what they heard from the enemy might well cause Agnès to change her mind about surrendering.

They moved into the outskirts of the forest and approached the Eternian camp, keeping their footfalls light. Tiz tried to keep his broadsword from clanking.

Agnès was visibly trembling now, but she kept moving forward. Tiz… didn't know what to make of that. It was like she was keeping a secret — a secret that had to do with her weird desire to sacrifice herself. But how did that align with her mission to save the world from darkness? She couldn't save everyone if she was dead.

Pondering it, Tiz scanned their surroundings as they moved. He'd suspected that they might encounter an Eternian scout or two as they approached, but no such sentry was in place. Was that normal?

Once they were within earshot of the shoreside camp, maneuvering became tricky. Tiz and Agnès crept through the woods as silently as they could, placing their feet with extreme care. At the same time, the sounds of the commotion reached their ears, causing Tiz's knees to go a little weak. The Eternians, a man and a woman, were speaking about Agnès in the vilest terms — as if she was their prey.

"…The vestal got away because she had a colluder. We are not to blame for our quarry suddenly having backup…"

"…Skin her alive for the trouble she's caused…"

Agnès needed to hear this. They needed cover, to wait and listen more attentively. Tiz searched for, and found, a large, mossy boulder. He motioned to it, and Agnès nodded, lips pale. They moved to the the big rock and crouched, putting their backs to its mossy side.

"…Seven Sky Knights that they killed! Seven!…

"…Enlistment standards have gone to the dogs…"

"…In that at least, we find accord…"

"… Never should have sent the lackeys to do our dirty work… so few of them stationed with us…"

"… _Your fault_ for screwing the Grand Marshal's wife, Barras…"

"…Just a rumor…"

The circular argument was growing more and more fierce. Tiz could identify two speakers — a man and a woman. At the moment, a deep male voice, at its highest pitch for excitement, was yelling.

"—If we had fought the vestal and her sidekick ourselves we wouldn't be in this, this mess _…_ No fuel, no provisions, no way of contacting the _Eschalot_ at the land base… we're going to have to walk, at this rate. Walk! No henchmen here to carry your litter!"

The feminine voice spoke then, low and cool. She was audible in fits and spurts.

"I'd have you carry me, you big, dumb brute…but I wouldn't want to soil my robes…why Braev assigned you to this mission, I have no earthly idea… dumbest lump of muscle I've ever met…"

"Blast you, White Witch!" the man roared. "I have my asterisk, same as you. They're meant to be used! The vestal would be in _our_ hands right now had you the courage. You're a coward, Holly. A white-blooded, pale-hearted, lily-livered _COWARD!"_

Tiz heard the unmistakable sound of a slap.

A quiet, ominous laugh.

"Heh. You want to get rough then, do you? Put up your fists then, girl. Fight me off."

Sounds of a scuffle — grunts, pants, a high scream. Tiz couldn't believe what he was hearing. Agnès beside him was already lifting her head above the top of the rock. Whatever she saw had her eyes round with horror.

"Tiz!" she whispered. "We have to help! Crystals save her!"

Too quick for him to grab her, Agnès had slipped from behind the rock and was running towards the Eternian camp.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

It was a rape!

Agnès sprinted towards the site of the violence, dagger drawn.

The rapist was huge — large as the Caldislan king, but filled out with muscles instead of fat. This Eternian woman was in dire peril! And so was Agnès, if she didn't get the man, Barras, disabled, and quickly.

Just fifty feet from her, the Eternian woman, Holly, thrashed around on the ground. But the man was too massive to dislodge. He was pinning Holly easily, laughing as though it were all a game.

Holly was frantic. Agnès could see that she was trying to headbutt her attacker, but the man was arching out of reach, sniggering. His throat was extended — the long, ropey flesh exposed. The perfect target. Agnès put on a fresh burst of speed and readied her weapon.

She saw when Holly caught sight of her. The woman's eyes widened and she jerked. "B-Barras!" she gasped.

Giving a cry, Agnès arced her dagger down into Barras's neck. The blade ripped through his flesh.

" _Aaugh!"_ bellowed Barras. He scrambled off and away from Holly. Hand clutching his neck, blood spurting through his fingers, he whipped around to face Agnès.

And this was very bad. Because she didn't think her dagger had sliced nearly deep enough. The muscles of this man were so thick! They had deflected her blade from his artery. She'd just enraged a bear, it looked like. But the rape had been stopped. That was good enough.

Barras was staring fixedly at her, hand still held to his neck. Agnès saw when the shocked recognition came to his eyes. He knew her! He knew her for the Wind Vestal.

But then the triumph on his face turned to surprise. His gaze fixed behind Agnès, past her shoulder.

Tiz. He was flying past Agnès, broadsword held high. With a yell, he brought the heavy blade down on Barras.

Barras dodged backwards, his big chest escaping the blow. But the broadsword came down on his shin.

The crack and the splat were the goriest things Agnès had ever heard. And everyone in their horrid, little tableau froze at the sight. Barras's leg was pulverized. Knee to ankle, the limb was bisected. The bones of his leg were right there — standing starkly white against the dark red of his flesh. Strands of sinew and shards of skeleton were smashed into the ground, the broadsword ultimately too dull to cleave through them — just crush. Crystals.

…

Time reclaimed them.

Agnès wretched. Barras was making horrible animal sounds. Holly was screaming at the top of her lungs. Tiz himself looked ill , pale and shaking.

Barras was fully prone in the dirt, chest heaving quickly. He'd turned somewhat onto his side, right leg curled up, fetal. His left leg lay in… remains. Breathing through his teeth, spittle flying, the ruined man clenched his fists, slinging them around his head like a demented baby. His face twitched and spasmed.

Tiz turned to her, distraught.

"Agnès… I need to finish it… him. This… it's not right. It can't be right."

She nodded, trying to project resolve though she trembled head to foot. "It's the right thing to do, Tiz." She swallowed, hard.

Holly was whipping her head between the two of them. "Wait. No! _No!"_

But Tiz was already wiping the blood of his dagger. Agnès blinked her eyes.

He'd been so fast. So clean. She remembered — he'd told her he'd been a shepherd. Had he just killed Barras like he killed his sheep when their time had come? However he'd been so remarkably skilled at euthanasia, she was grateful. Bowing her head, she said a prayer. "Crystals, divine this man's soul. If it be worthy, let it join in their Holy Light."

Holly was wriggling, crawling on her hands and knees towards the body. Was she hurt? Or had her legs given out? Agnès felt like sitting down herself.

"Barras. BARRAS!"

And wasn't that strange though, that Holly was clutching Barra's body like that? If Agnès had been attacked by a rapist, she wouldn't want to cuddle with his corpse…

"Vulna Cura! Vulna Cura! Raisa! Hominum Raisa!" Holly was shouting. She whipped her head around. Her eyes lit on something, burned. Rushing to her feet, falling like a foal, Holly scrambled over to something lying on the ground — a long, white staff, crowned with an ornate carving of wings. She gripped it and used it to lever herself to standing.

"VULNA CURA! HOMINUM RAISA!" Holly struck the ground with her staff, screaming the words repeatedly.

"Um… Agnès?" Tiz was grabbing at her shoulder. "Something doesn't feel right, here."

Agnès had to agree. Holly was acting very peculiar. And even more strange… all of Barras's blood had vanished from her clothing. The woman's face was still stained with blood, but her robes… her robes were pure white.

" _HOMINUM RAISA!"_ Wind rushed around them.

Then Holly quieted. Through tangles of blonde hair, stuck like a curtain to her face, she smiled, long and slow.

"Holly…"

Agnès gasped so hard, she choked. She spun around.

Barras was sitting up.

His leg was whole.

His eyes were open. They were wide open.

And he was looking right at Agnès.

He winked.

"Time for round two, my dear."


	10. Put Up Your Dukes

**TIZ ARRIOR**

Tiz spat and teeth came out. On the shore, they looked like pebbles. Little white pebbles. He reached up to touch his face and was surprised when his fingers bumped into his cheek earlier than expected.

"I have the speed of a cobra, the ferocity of a wolf, the immensity of a bear, and the fists of…nothing has fists like mine! I am the standard!"

Tiz raised his head, trying to ignore the stabs of pain. He couldn't see out of his left eye and his right field of vision was rapidly darkening. But from what remained of his sight, he could see a hulking figure on the shoreline, bouncing on his feet.

Barras.

The first thing the man had done after Holly, the White Mage, had brought him back to life, was stride over to Tiz and wrest the broadsword out of his grip. Then he'd tossed the weapon into Lake Caldis.

"Not so formidable now, are ye, lad?" Barras had shouted with a swift uppercut to Tiz's chin. The blows had rained hard and fast after that. Agnès had tried to intervene, but it turned out Holly commanded wind, as well as flesh. She'd captured the vestal quickly by stealing the air from Agnès' lungs.

"I don't understand!" Agnès was gasping. Tiz shifted his battered head painfully and saw the Wind Vestal pinioned in Holly's grasp.

"How can you stand with him?" Agnès cried. "How can you be his friend? He was going to rape you!"

Both Holly and Barras laughed at that.

"Our relationship is consensual," said Holly. "But complicatedly so. A simple innocent like you could not fathom it. Suffice it to say that pain is a very close thing to pleasure, Vestal."

Tiz wondered at that. Could such a statement be true? He searched his body for a modicum of pleasure… No. Holly was full of it. Tiz felt pain and only pain.

With a great pang, Tiz realized his plan of saving Agnès from the Eternians and running off with her to save the world was over now. He'd failed. Unless… There was one loophole he'd not forgotten…Tiz felt for the Phoenix Down in his pocket.

Earlier that day in the Norende Ravine, a seeming lifetime ago, he'd taken the Down off a Sky Knight that he and Agnès had dispatched. One glowing feather could bring a man back to life, it was said. Tiz hadn't truly believed such magic was possible… Not until he saw Holly resuscitate a very dead Barras. Tiz believed now. But he couldn't waste the Phoenix Down preemptively. And he couldn't use the feather on himself, once he was gone. Someone else would have to do it. Agnès was held captive. Who could—

"Don't worry, Tiz. I've got this."

Airy.

The cryst-fairy was behind his head, but Tiz recognized the high-pitched tone of her voice.

"Phoe… Phoenix…" He tried to explain, push the words out of his ruined mouth.

"The Down. I got it. All you have to do now is die. Then I'll bring you back! You'll be good as new. They won't see it coming."

How was he supposed to die? Barras had removed Tiz's dagger, along with the broadsword. And even if he did have a weapon, Tiz didn't know if he had the nerve to do himself in. It went against every instinct his body had. Sure — after the Chasm had swallowed Norende, he'd thought about just… not existing anymore. He'd thought about that a lot. But now he had something to live for. He wanted to fight! Could he really let himself die, trusting Airy to bring him back?

He had to.

"How… how…"

"Get Barras's attention again," piped Airy in a whisper. "Insult him. Look at the guy, shouldn't be too hard to come up with something."

Tiz laughed, then wished he hadn't. He coughed wetly.

"Look here!" Barras was bellowing. "The great swordsman still breathes!"

Heavy footfalls. A shadow over his face. Then Tiz was being lifted by the collar of his shirt.

"Look at 'im! Limp, like… like… one of those dolls…" Barras lifted Tiz's arm and wiggled it around.

"A marionette?" came Holly's dry voice.

"Yes. That."

A sharp, intense blow to his temple and Tiz was slamming back into the ground.

"Tiz!"

He felt a sharp seizure of pain, a hot rush in his head, and then…

…

Bliss. Utter. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Tiz felt the wounds of his body knit together. The sensation was satisfaction on fire. Each reconnecting fiber of his flesh sent a frisson of warm ecstasy coursing through his being. This was better than anything he'd ever felt before, better than anything he knew he'd ever feel again. Distantly, in his mind — in a deep, secret ear — Tiz heard a chorus of angelic birdsong calling him back to life.

He opened his eyes and they were clear, so very clear. His plan came to him in one brilliant pulse.

Leaping to his heels, Tiz raced to the spot on the ground where Barras had tossed his dagger. Snatching it up, he turned, flying towards Holly and Agnès — covering the twenty feet as if it were ten.

Holly dropped Agnès' arms with a little shriek and dodged away from Tiz's blade. Tiz let her escape and severed the ropes tied around Agnès' wrists.

"You all right?" he asked, looking her over quickly. She seemed intact.

"Tiz." Agnès face was loose with shock. "How?"

"Airy," he whispered to her, grinning. He felt magnificent. He could take the Eternians on. Take the world full of monsters on. He could span the breadth of the world with his arms!

"What do you know?" rumbled Barras. He was crouching where Tiz had died, sifting crumbs of soot between his fingers. "Phoenix Down. The little bastard. But who could have…"

"They have an ally!" bit out Holly. She was clenching Barras' arms, pulling him to standing.

"But there was no one there."

"Either they have an invisible ally or they figured a way to use the Down automatically, like that creep, Qada!" Holly was clenching her staff, chest heaving. "Either way, they're more powerful than we knew. We need to quit playing around!"

Barras slammed his fist into his palm. "No issue there, my dear. I can take out the bumpkin all day if I have to."

But Tiz knew better. "Agnès," he whispered. "You take on Barras!"

"What?" Agnès squeaked.

"I've seen your speed. You could dodge an angry hornet! All you need to do is keep him occupied."

Agnès started to shake her head, but then nodded furiously, comprehension dawning on her. "I distract him while you fight Holly. Yes, she needs to go first. Otherwise her healing powers… Barras can't be beaten with her alive."

"Exactly."

"Conspiring with your acolyte, Vestal?" Holly called to Agnès. "There will be no servants to save you once he's dead and you're in the Eternians' grasp. Every minute we waste fighting you into submission is another hour you'll spend being flayed." The White Mage bared her teeth in a vicious smile. "But don't worry. I'll be there to pull you back from the edge. Every. Time."

Beside him, Agnès shuddered. Tiz felt his fury rise.

"I thought you said you were finished playing around," he yelled. "So why the head games, then?"

"So ready to die again?" Holly bit out. "As you wish." The mage raised her staff. "Aerora!"

A wall of air slammed into him.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Agnès waited to make sure Tiz regained his feet — he did — then turned towards Barras. She crouched into the fighting stance Pia had taught her just a week ago, dagger held before her.

Barras tossed his head back and laughed. "Oh, my sides! The pip-squeak wants to rumble. This is too much!"

Adjusting her stance, Agnès lined up her throw. She had this one shot…

The dagger went wide. Very wide.

Barras roared.

Gritting her teeth and ignoring her scorching embarrassment, Agnès lifted her fists.

"Oh, oh yes." Barras wiped a tear from his eye. "That's right, girl, put up your dukes."

Agnès put her weight on her back foot, pushed off with it. She approached Barras cautiously, keeping low and balanced.

Barras had stopped laughing. He was appraising her, a thoughtful look on his face. "Someone's taught you a proper carriage," he said. "Good footwork, too." His eyes brushed over Agnès fists. "Might want to adjust those thumbs, though. A good blow'll crack 'em, them being on the inside like that."

Her eyes not leaving Barras's, Agnès readjusted her thumbs.

Something like respect flashed over Barras's face. Just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a mocking grin. He put up his fists. Agnès tried and failed to suppress a gulp. His bunched up hands were massive, as big as kickballs!

She took a deep breath and centered herself. You could dodge an angry hornet, Tiz had said. Pia had told her she was fast as well. Not as quick as me former husband's fists, but slippery as a wet bar of soap!

Barras threw a punch.

Agnès moved out of the way. It wasn't… it wasn't hard to do!

Barras aimed another blow at her — a roundhouse. She ducked it. Then before she could think, her arm was lashing out. She punched Barras right on the jaw. Barras made to grapple. Then she was backing up fast, slipping out of his grip before it closed in on her.

She shook out her smarting hand, then fisted it back up.

Barras gave a little laugh, but his face was serious. "Who would've thought?" he murmured. "A natural." He glanced quickly towards where Holly and Tiz were engaged. Then his eyes narrowed on her.

He charged.

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

Norende had never seen a tornado, but a village near them had. It had been reduced to rubble. Many people had died, their bodies found weeks later in fields and forests as far as twenty miles away. More than a few of those bodies had been found naked. The wind had blown their clothes clean off. That creepy detail had always stayed with Tiz.

So as Holly whipped up winds fit to tear him apart, Tiz kept a tight hold on his pants.

Holly's whole jig, Tiz had realized, was knocking people off their balance. She'd done it with Agnès. First she'd stolen her air, trussing the vestal up while Agnès was in a panic. Then she'd tried to get in Agnès's head just now, by threatening torture.

Tiz wasn't going to let Holly psych him out. He would stay collected.

So even as the mage whipped Tiz around, flipping and twisting him in every direction, Tiz kept his eyes on the White Witch.

After a big spell, Holly needed some recovery time. The whirlwinds, especially, took a lot out of her, causing her to lean forward and pant. Whenever the violent gales relented, Tiz would raise himself up from where he'd fallen and sprint at Holly, full force. He gained more ground than he gave, and Holly couldn't keep Tiz at a distance for long. Very soon, Tiz was right on her.

The next part should have been easy in comparison… just putting his hands around Holly's neck and cutting off her air until she died. But Holly bucked and gurgled, turning a horrible shade of puce. The panic in her hemorrhaging eyes was acute, and Tiz wasn't heartless. Seeing her struggle like that was horrible. Just horrible. But he'd lost his dagger at some point in her onslaught — he only had his bare hands to work with. It was kill or be killed…

Tiz wasn't clear on when the deed was done, but he was sure when Holly wouldn't be getting up again. From what little he'd gleaned of her personality, she would never fake her death with her tongue lolling out of her mouth like that. Holly projected vanity, and would have hated to look so grotesque in death.

He felt a searing brand of guilt, but tucked the emotion away to feel later. Right now, Agnès was dealing with Barras solo.

Tiz's gut clenched when he got a good look at Agnès's face. It was bloody and swollen. But amazingly, she was still on her feet. Tiz hadn't doubted she would be, but it was a relief to see, all the same. She was a bit slower than he remembered, probably because she'd taken a blow or two to the head already, but her feet were moving, dancing this way and that.

He needed a weapon to help her.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

If a lifetime of praying on her knees to the Crystal had taught Agnès anything, it was how to work through discomfort. Kneeling on hard floors became bothersome almost immediately. And after several hours… well, kneecaps weren't made of iron. But the will could take over when the body failed. That was how it was possible to keep upright, even when everything material seemed fit to fall apart.

So even though her face and sides radiated pain from where Barras had landed massive blows, Agnès pushed the awareness of it aside, keeping her focus on her opponent in front of her.

After that first hit of hers, Barras hadn't let anything else touch him. She couldn't win this fight alone — Agnès knew that. Barras was far too talented.

Barras's head turned, swiftly, looking towards where Holly and Tiz fought.

Agnès tried to sneak in an uppercut.

Barras dodged it.

"Are you a monk with the Fighting Order?"

Barras looked surprised to hear her speak. Stepping laterally, he wiped at some sweat on his brow with his trunk-like forearm, then moved back into a proper stance.

"I'm the Monk, girl. The last one standing."

"I thought there was a whole monastery of you." She dodged a swift jab from Barras. "Deep in the Eternian mountains."

He chuckled, but it was a dark sound. "Didn't you hear, sweetheart? It burned down. Burned with the old monks and little prospects still inside. Thanks to the Crystal Orthodoxy."

Agnès hadn't known that. She tried not to let her unease show.

"Your order espouses violent anticrystalism," she said, moving backwards to put a few more feet between them. "You can hardly be surprised when brutality is answered with brutality."

A red flush spread over Barras's exposed skin. "And is crisping little boys alive something you espouse?"

"Certainly not!"

"Right. What could you do about it? You're just a tiny, insignificant Vestal."

Against her better judgement, Agnès felt her anger rising. "This had to have happened before I was born. Back when the Orthodoxy still had a seat in Eternia."

"Your point being?"

"You're blaming me for an event that happened prior to my existence?"

"Yes."

"That's absurd!"

"The crimes of the Orthodoxy are on your shoulders, now that you're a Vestal. By accepting that role, kid, you took on the responsibility for every crime the Orthodoxy has commited."

"Don't call me kid." Agnès jabbed at Barras, putting the weight of her fury behind the blow.

Barras dodged it easily, but he nodded at her with approval. "That's better! Hand fighting is as emotional as it is technical. Put every unpeaceable thing into your blows — joy, rage, love, lust…"

Agnès shook her head. Barras was almost as bad as Hélène, the Wind Vestal before her. Always making a lesson out of everything. But Hélène would never be so crass.

"Keep your elbows down, and never cross your feet," Barras was saying. "Crossing your feet is asking to trip. And practice your strike combinations every day."

Agnès couldn't help but let out a little huff of exasperation. "What are you talking about? Going on about my future like you want me to have one. Aren't you trying to kill me right now?"

"My orders were to take you alive, but—" Barras grimaced— "It looks like my goose is cooked. Holly has fallen. And your friend has retrieved his monstrosity of a blade."

Agnès darted her eyes to the side. Sure enough, Tiz was in the lake, wading back to shore, the great broadsword in his hand.

"I'm a fighter," said Barras, softly. "My body is my weapon. It's a damn fine one. But I know when I'm set to lose a bout."

From behind her raised fists, Agnès frowned at the Monk.

"You're going to take my asterisk, little Vestal. I hope you find pride in it. Don't use my skills to defend the Crystals. Use them to fight evil."

Agnès frowned. "Those are the same things."

"You'll find out, in time." Barras heaved a sigh. "I do hope there's fighting and fucking in the beyond."

With a shout, Tiz brought the broadsword down on Barras's neck from behind. Barras crumpled to the ground, spraying blood.

For some odd reason, Agnès felt wistful.


	11. The First Taste of Victory

**TIZ ARRIOR**

From the look on Agnès' face, Tiz gathered that she needed a moment to collect herself. He had an idea of what upset her. Barras and Holly had been horrible people, but they'd still been _people_.

 _They were going to torture and kill Agnès,_ he told himself. _And they did weird sex stuff together. They didn't deserve to die becaust of_ that _, but still…_

Tiz wandered back to where he'd strangled Holly on the rocky shoreline. He noticed with unease that the witch's clothes were displaced from their struggle. She was indecent. Out of nowhere, Tiz remembered an old joke that his grandfather had overused — _Her clothes are so tight, I can see her religion!_

He reached out to put Holly to rights, but as soon as his fingertips touched her clothes, her body burst into beams of light.

Tiz jumped back and fell on his ass.

Right where Holly's corpse had lain, a bright bead of light pulsed.

"It's her asterisk," said Agnès from somewhere behind Tiz. He turned to face the Vestal, but he could only see spots.

"Touch it, Tiz," she told him.

Well… why not? Tiz turned his eyes back to the blazing asterisk.

As soon as his fingers curled around the concentration of light, he felt a rush of pure energy. He'd felt the sensation before, right after he'd died, when Airy had administered the Phoenix Down. Tiz knew what the feeling was now. It was magic.

How much time passed, Tiz didn't know, but when his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was Agnès. She was leaning towards him, looking concerned.

"Are you all right, Tiz? It didn't feel bad for me. Did it— did it hurt you?"

Tiz blinked hard. Then he refocused on the Vestal.

Agnès didn't have her wool dress on anymore. Instead, she was wearing a sleeveless garment dyed a warm, earthy color. Its hem hit slightly above her knees and a leather belt cinched the garment snuggly around her waist.

Tiz looked down at himself. His old clothes were gone, too. In their place, he was dressed in white robes, so spotless and clean, they glowed in the waning light.

"Are we… still us?" he asked Agnès, then felt self-conscious. Was that a stupid question?

"I think so," said Agnès, speaking carefully through her busted lip. "I still feel like myself, except… capable of things. Different things."

"What do you mean?"

Agnès paused. "When I held a weapon for the very first time, I got this strange feeling. Like… I was holding something truly _dangerous_. It felt exciting, but it was frightening, too. And I feel that way now, but I'm not holding anything."

Agnès was looking at her hands, held out in front of her, as if they were coated in blood.

"The danger is… _me_."

Tiz's first instinct was to say, 'that's amazing,' but he bit back the words. He didn't want to risk hurting Agnès' feelings. But if he did—"

"I can heal you now!" Tiz said, breathless. "I took Holly's powers. All I need to do is just—" snatching Holly's staff from off the ground, he shouted, " _Cura_!"

Agnès' face stayed battered.

" _Cura_!"

Nothing.

Tiz slumped.

"Maybe it takes some time to settle in," said Agnès.

"Do you think so? Should we test yours?" Tiz extended his palm towards Agnès. "Punch me here."

She looked doubtful. "Are you sure, Tiz?"

"Absolutely. Pop me one right there. Go on. Right the— OW!"

Tiz began shaking his hand out, but stopped moving immediately when it erupted in agony.

"TIZ!"

"Did you break his hand?" piped a high voice. Airy.

Agnès was gripping her face with her new weapons, looking horrified.

"No!" cried Tiz. "Agnès! I am _fine_. I just wasn't expecting… that."

Agnès was still clutching her face, but looked somewhat pleased with herself.

Tiz raised Holly's staff again and recited the curing incantation, with the same lack of results. He shook his head, trying not to feel too let down.

"Let's just drink potions for now," he told Agnès.

"That's a good idea," she said, nodding. "And when we return to Caldisla, we can visit the Spell Shop. Maybe the owner will have an idea of how to make you… be magical."

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

Agnès felt incredible. Before absorbing Barras's asterisk, she hadn't realized how fearful she'd been as she'd made her way through the world. Now, with this strange, new power running through her veins, Agnès felt like she could take on any threat.

Was this what it felt like, having muscles?

It was splendid.

Before, her arms had just been pale, long limbs. Now, they were made up of _parts_ — crisply delineated segments that could contract powerfully to lift, heft, and _strike_.

As she and Tiz circled back to the road, she felt tempted to push the slim trees as she passed them, just to hear them groan against her strength. Only the knowledge that it might demoralize Tiz kept her from doing it.

Speaking of Tiz…

"I was naïve."

"Hmm?" said Tiz. "Wait, what?"

"I swore I wouldn't… involve others on my journey," said Agnès carefully. _I had better not mention the fact that I'm cursed,_ she thought to herself. _And by a witch called Lilta, who Tiz apparently knows._

"I… I believed it was my duty as a Vestal," she continued. "My duty alone. Yet, I was afraid. When Holly and Barras spoke of harming me, I wavered. And then I realized… I can't do this by myself."

"Agnès…"

She took a deep breath, and turned to face Tiz.

"Tiz, if you still want to accompany me on my journey, I would be more than willing to accept your help. In fact, I'd be very grateful."

Tiz seemed stunned. Stunned _and_ elated.

"I need to return to the Temple of Wind," she went on. "When the Crystal fell, we — my acolyte, Pia, and I — we didn't know what had happened. We didn't know what had gone wrong. And then, when we got to Ancheim, we learned that the Wind had vanished. So Pia and I decided that I had to go find it."

Tiz looked incredulous. "Find… the Wind?"

"Um…" Agnès shifted uncomfortably. "Yes."

"Where did you expect to find it?" Tiz's eyes were round, as if he were reassessing her sanity.

"Well, we didn't know where it would be," Agnès said, feeling defensive. "So I was going to seek all the great leaders and wisemen of the world. To learn about this… calamity. You see, I can't fix anything until I understand what's going on."

Tiz's doubtful expression had faded. Now, his eyes were bright.

"That makes a lot of sense, Agnès!"

"But then," chirped Airy, "the Crystals sent me to guide Agnès on her way!"

Tiz turned to the cryst-fairy. "Airy! Do _you_ know what caused the Great Chasm?"

"I don't," the fairy said, her face crumpling. "I understand the will of the Crystals, but don't know why the Chasm formed. I'm _so_ sorry, Tiz!"

"It's alright," said Tiz hastily. "Really! Don't look like that, Airy."

"It's not alright, though," Airy cried. "I know what the Chasm took from you, Tiz! I know how badly you want to fix it! I wish I knew more, but I don't." The fairy's glow dimmed.

"But Airy _does_ knows how to stop it from happening again," Agnès hastened to add. "I must pray before all four Crystals to purify them."

"But what's contaminating them?" asked Tiz. "And why?"

Agnès bit her lip. "I… don't know," she confessed.

"I know that!" Airy cried out. "Evil! From time's beginning, evil has fought to pollute the Crystals. It tries to poison everything good!"

Tiz looked at Agnès, as if he wanted her input, too. All she could do was shake her head. Hélène had died so unexpectedly — long before she had taught Agnès all there was to know about being a vestal.

"Look," Airy crossed her arms over her tiny chest. "We don't have time to ask questions! The world is falling apart! We have to bandage the wound before we wonder why blood is red!"

There was silence in their little tableau. Then Tiz nodded, mouth set.

"Airy is right," he said. "It's past time for action. And nothing is stopping us from learning as we go."

Airy beamed. "Thank you, Tiz. We'll figure everything out, I know it! But first, we need to get to the Crystals before it's too late. And I have _just_ the idea of how to do it."

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

When they arrived back at Caldisla, darkness had fallen. The monsters had gotten thick and nasty while they were still on the road, and Tiz hadn't been much help at all.

Wearing Holly's asterisk made him feel oddly wimpy. Tiz had slashed at their assailants with his broadsword, but his formerly prized possesion now felt unweildy in his hands.

He didn't feel keen on hurting anything, really, even though he was pleased that Agnès was dispatching their enemies with new ease.

She had done away with her short-sword and was using her bare fists instead. Seeing her pummel monsters into magic dust with nothing but her hands was magnificent. It certainly put Agnès in a great mood. But Tiz felt slightly envious over how well Agnès had connected with Barras's asterisk.

Since Lake Caldis, Tiz had been feeling secretly alarmed that he'd be stuck in white robes for the rest of his life. But Marvin, the magician at the Spell Shop had relieved Tiz of his fears.

"Asterisks can be applied and removed with a simple spell, my lad," Marvin had said, grinning with a mouth of missing teeth. "And you can store them on a _dexteritus_."

"It looks like a bracelet," Tiz had said, peering at the string of beads Marvin had produced.

"Appearances can be deceiving. Go on, hold one of the beads."

Tiz did so, and then gasped as a flash of light erupted in the Spell Shop. Then he outright gaped as he looked down and saw he was back in his homespun clothes.

Marvin had cackled.

It had cost nearly all of the pugets they'd plundered from Holly and Barras's luggage, but they were able to buy the dexteritus and three basic spell scrolls. Now, with Holly's asterisk equipped, Tiz could fix blindness, cure poison, and heal minor wounds.

After the Spell Shop, they'd gone to the palace to see the King and Sir Owen. Both men had been shocked to see Tiz and Agnès, back from the Vestal's suicide mission. When they learned, as well, that two Eternian asterisk-holders had been dispatched, the King had risen to his feet and called them "his little miracles."

Sir Owen had news of his own to share.

"Our intelligence officers have discovered the docking site of the airship. It seems the Eternians have commandeered the summer home of one of our more prominent merchants. It's a lavish estate called Lontano Villa."

"And the estate has a docking facility?" Agnès had asked.

"It does now."

After their royal audience, Tiz and Agnès made their way, footsore, to Karl and Delle's inn. Owen had sent a messenger ahead of them.

"My parents will want to throw a feast for you," he'd explained. "Ma started crying when she learned how I let you go after the Eternians, Tiz, with no troops to back you up. And then she nearly kicked me when she heard that the Wind Vestal was going to surrender herself."

When they arrived, Delle flew from the front door and wrapped both Tiz and Agnès in a single hug. "My darlings!" she'd sobbed, kissing them both on the cheeks, even though she'd never met Agnès before.

When they were finally released, a beaming Karl ushered them inside to the dining room. Sure enough, they'd assembled a savory spread of delights.

There was Delle's famous bread aplenty — spread with fresh butter and soft cheeses. There was a hearty soup brimming with tender root vegetables, and, for the main course, Karl had roasted and carved a whole, fat goose.

For dessert, they ate apple tartlets with fresh cream and drank cup after cup of scalding tea. Tiz couldn't remember ever being more satisfied by a meal.

Delle cooed over Agnès the entire time. Agnès didn't seem to know what to make of it, but she was faultlessly polite in thanking the couple for their hospitality. When Karl got misty-eyed and told Agnès that he was _'so glad that Tiz has a young lady like you in his life,'_ Tiz wanted to hide under the table.

After Karl and Delle all but tucked them in their beds, Tiz surrendered himself to the heaviest fatigue of his life.

His sleep was dreamless.

Then Agnès was standing above him, barely visible in the total darkness of the dormitory.

"Tiz," her voice trembled. "There's something wrong outside."


	12. Get Out, We're on Fire

**EDEA LEE**

That _shit-licker_.

Things had spiraled _completely_ out of Edea's control. Shit was _on fire_.

"Ominas Crowe!" she shouted over the roaring, cracking blaze. "Anyone left inside that building is _dead_. It is TIME TO WITHDRAW!"

But Ominas couldn't hear her over the sound of his destruction.

An hour earlier, under cover of darkness, the Eternians had marched right into Caldisla. The city had no freaking gate! Edea had been outraged on the Caldislans' behalf.

They'd followed the map that their intelligence officers had provided and found a reeking, rickety tenement at 12 Flagstaff Lane. A single fireball from Ominas had set it ablaze.

Almost immediately, a clanging racket had sounded from inside the building and, shortly after that, a flood of frantic people had begun to pour out.

As they'd planned, the Eternians had detained each pajama-clad survivor and questioned them.

" _Where is Agnès Oblige? Have you seen the Vestal?"_

The inhabitants of 12 Flagstaff Lane had been frightened, but cooperative, except for one harried, blonde fop who'd been busy taking a headcount.

"I need to make sure Granny Fordyce made it out!" he'd screamed when a soldier had grabbed him for questioning. "Do I _look_ like a curvacious, brunette holy woman with butt-long hair to you?!"

He'd looked ready to take the soldier on with his bare hands, but he'd frozen when Edea had marched over.

"Go find Granny Fordyce!" she'd barked at him, and he'd stumbled back into the burning building. Edea had watched him emerge a few minutes later, supporting a wizened old woman who was clutching a flower pot filled with a single, singed frangipani.

Now, every single person who'd fled the tenement had been interrogated three times over and the vestal was nowhere to be found. Number 12, Flagstaff Lane was consumed with fire, and 11 and 13 looked fit to catch, too. If the Vestal was actually inside that inferno, she was certaintly dead. But at this point, Edea was certain of one other thing — they'd been fed false information.

Ominas seemed to have reached a similar conclusion and wasn't taking it well. It appeared as if his last thread of sanity had snapped. He was screaming at the gawking Caldislans who had assembled on the street.

"I WILL B-B-BURN CALDISLA TO THE GROUND UNLESS YOU HAND OVER THE VESTAL. DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU WILL ALL D-D-DIE IN FLAMES!"

At this point, his rage would not simply wind down. Edea _had_ to intervene, before it was _far_ too late.

She belted out the magician's name with her full strength.

"OMINAS. CROWE."

When he spun to face her, lit by the red flames and pointed teeth bared, he looked fully demonic.

"IT IS TIME TO FUCKING GO," she bellowed. "WE NEED TO LEAVE SO THEY CAN PUT THE FIRE OUT. OUR ORDERS WERE TO TAKE THE VESTAL ALIVE AND LEAVE EVERYONE ELSE UNHARMED. YOU WILL BE THE BIGGEST FUCK-UP THE ETERNIAN FORCES HAVE EVER KNOWN IF WE DO NOT WITHDRAW."

Ominas actually set his jaw and stamped his foot, like a toddler in a strop.

She would give him five seconds. That was generous.

Five… four… three…

Ominas lifted his rod and aimed it at the builing across the street.

In the next moment, Edea had unsheathed Ise-no-Kami and was sprinting at the black mage.

Ominas shrieked and dropped his rod, but Edea didn't waver. She lifted the katana—

"RETREAT! RETREAT, ETERNIANS!" Ominas screamed. "R-R-RETREAT!"

Edea stood on the street, panting, feeling baked by the scorching heat of the flames. Where in this hellscape was the honor she'd dreamed of?

She took a deep, scalding breath and let herself imagine that it was pure, frozen, Eternian air. She took one more breath. Then she came back to the moment.

"YOU HEARD THE SHIT-LICKER. MOVE OUT."

 **RINGABEL**

When the Eternian forces had come, he'd been waiting. In fact, he'd been waiting ever since he'd put his letter in their foul hands.

Ringabel's prophetic diary had said a "great fire" would bring them together — Tiz, Agnès, Edea, and himself. A "great fire." That was all.

After several unessential weeks spent in Caldisla, Ringabel had felt tempted to set the blaze himself. In the end, though, he'd decided to give the Eternians a false lead in the hopes _that_ would trigger the necessary event.

Had it ever.

He'd been playing sentry at the kitchen window of the nasty, little boarding house when the Eternians had snuck up the street. Heart thumping, he'd watched them draw near. When the black mage had made a ball of _fire_ , he'd wanted to cheer. And then, when the fireball flew _at_ the building, Ringabel had cursed.

He'd grabbed the proprietor's enormous stock pot and her gigantic ladel and had started clanging a ruckus fit to wake the dead. He'd run through every hallway of the tenemant, banging on each door until they all opened.

"We're on fire!" he'd shouted. "Everyone out! Grab your babies! Grab your lovers! Get out! We're on fire!"

Outside, he'd counted everyone, but found they were off by one. He'd been wracking his brain, trying to think _who_ was missing, when a thrice-damned Eternian soldier had grabbed him.

"You there! Have you seen the Vestal? Do you know where the Vestal is?"

It came to Ringabel, in a blaze of clarity, who was absent. The old lady who tended the little garden on the roof!

Ringabel had done his best to explain to the Eternian that a woman was still inside, or possibly outside but on the _roof_ , who needed to be _saved_ , but the soldier wouldn't remove his hand from Ringabel's upper arm.

Ringabel had been ready to punch him in the teeth when time had stopped.

At least that's what it felt like, seeing the most beautiful woman in the world… gritting her teeth and stalking towards him.

Somehow, after that he'd managed to save Granny Fordyce, and Edea — _Edea!_ — had made the Eternians leave. Then, the Caldislans had formed human chains from all the city's wells to the burning tenement and successfully kept the fire from spreading.

Now, the King's Guard had arrived, and they were swarming the site, taking over operations with insufferable self-importance. Sir Owen was there, too, walking around with his hand on his sword pommel.

Ringabel made to move in the opposite direction, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was walking at Owen's side.

The young man was the human equivalent of a freshly churned pat of butter. He was so country, Ringabel could almost smell dung in the air.

As for the lady, she had a certain aura about her. Her unstyled hair hung well past her shapely butt. She looked like a sexy fanatic.

He'd never seen a bigger pair of weirdos.

They could only be Tiz and Agnès.

 **TIZ ARRIOR**

They were with Sir Owen, looking at the damage, when a stylish man approached them.

"If it isn't Mister Amnesia _,"_ Owen said, lips pursing.

The man made a deep bow to both Tiz and Angès. "If you'd be so good, allow me to introduce myself," he said. "They call me—" he shot a glare at Sir Owen — "Ringabel."

When he rose, he caught Tiz's gaze with his own. Tiz looked into eyes that were bright blue and more than usually intense.

"This fellow has been wandering Caldisla for the past few weeks," Sir Owen explained, his arms crossed. "He claims to have no memory of his life… prior to waking in a field outside the city."

"Wow," Tiz said, looking from Sir Owen to Ringabel. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Ringabel inclined his head.

"I see you've suffered some light burns," said Owen. "Should you be up and walking about?"

"I thank you for your gracious concern," Ringabel sniffed. He inspected his scorched sleeves. "Oh dear," he drawled. "I _was_ fond of this jacket. Such an appealing shade of blue. But I suppose the soot gives it a rakish character."

"You look like you barely escaped from being burned alive!" said Agnès. "Are you… could you possibly be the man everyone is talking about? The hero who saved the people inside the building?"

"It was nothing." Ringabel shrugged one shoulder. "But I must get to the point…" Ringabel's eyes sharpened " _You_ … are Tiz and Agnès."

It was not a question.

"I don't recall giving you my name, sir," Agnès said with some alarm.

"Allow me to explain," said Ringabel. "The only thing I had on me, when I woke with no memories, was this." He unbuttoned his jacket and, from an inside pocket, pulled out a small, thin book.

"It has your names written inside it."

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

The fancy man knew _far_ too much for Agnès' comfort.

He knew their names.

He knew their goals.

He knew their next move.

Who _was_ he?

"Let me get this straight," Tiz was saying. "You want to come with us… put your life on the line… face almost certain death… so you can 'get with that Eternian chick?'"

"Correct," nodded Ringabel.

Agnès caught Tiz's eye and shook her head. She didn't bother to hide the gesture.

"I don't think you understand," Ringabel objected. "When I saw her face amid the flames, I felt… well, your average fellow might call it an epiphany. But _I_ call it a thunderclap to the heart." He leveled a steely look at them. "I simply _must_ go with you."

There was something almost frightening about his determination, Agnès decided. And the strength of his lust was repulsive. Their mission — hers and Tiz's — was a _holy_ one. This 'Ringabel' character had certainly been heroic tonight, saving the people in the burning building, but his behavior since had been puzzling at best and bizarre at worst. The decision was a simple one.

"Unacceptable," she told him firmly. "You cannot go with us."

"I'll not slow you down," Ringabel countered.

"My answer is no, sir."

A series of emotions flitted across Ringabel's face in quick succession. Disbelief. Panic. Obstinacy.

Then Tiz said, "Three in a fight is much better than two, Agnès."

Agnès crossed her arms over her chest.

Sir Owen joined in. "I can say nothing for his character. But he _is_ scrappy, and skilled at hunting. Caldisla's tanneries are fit to burst… Miss Oblige, I'd feel more at ease if he accompanied you on this mission."

 _Well._

"Agnès," said Tiz. "It will even our odds."

She heaved a great sigh, but closed her eyes and nodded in resignation.

"My lady vestal," said Ringabel, dropping to his knees before her. "From this day hence, I shall be your sword."

 _Oh, gag._

 **RINGABEL**

It had been a close thing — too close — but Ringabel was now a member of their party.

"You won't regret this," he'd told Agnès, as they'd set off.

She'd pulled a face.

Ah, well. Not every woman could be won over in a day.


	13. We're Going to Die In Here

**TIZ ARRIOR**

To get to Lontano Villa by land, they needed to pass through the ruins of Centro Keep.

The fortress had operated in a era before Caldisla's unification, when the north and south had skirmished constantly. In that time, control of Centro had passed back and forth, due to its central location on the continent.

But Caldisla's civil war had ended long ago, back when Tiz's grandfather had been a boy. Now Centro was a nest of monsters, it was told. Going through it would not be a simple task.

Tiz felt more confident, however, with Ringabel in their party. The man was a dandy, it was true, but he seemed highly comfortable with his weapon of choice — a long spear.

"Range is essential to me," Ringabel had explained in his customary drawl. "I _never_ allow monsters to breathe in my face."

His words proved true. As they approached Centro Keep, the biggest monster Tiz had ever seen emerged from the treeline and came at them in a dead sprint, issuing a blood-curdling squeal.

Tiz froze. Agnès stumbled backwards.

Ringabel lifted his spear, almost lazily, and _launched_ it at the pig-beast. Its sharpened head lodged in the monster's neck, no less than thirty feet away from where they stood. The monster collapsed heavily, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"Not my finest toss," Ringabel apologized.

Tiz was _very_ glad Ringabel was with them.

Though it was sunny and bright outside, the interior of Centro Keep was close to pitch black. Vines and thick brush had grown over its narrow windows, which were far and few between.

Fortunately, Sir Owen had sent them off with a pack of supplies, and among those materials were the necessary components to make a torch.

As soon as they illuminated Centro Keep, Tiz wished powerfully that they had not. Debris was piled in every corner, and everything was covered in inches of dust. Rats and spiders scrambled away from the torchlight, and the sight of so many creatures crawling and scuttling at once made Tiz want to scream in terror.

Agnès' eyes were round as coins. She was rubbing her bare arms, looking as though she wished to be encased in a suit of armor, rather than draped in her sparse monk robes.

Ringabel merely sniffed with distaste. Then his eyes had sharpened on the floor.

"Torch," he said, and Tiz passed it over.

Ringabel knelt and peered at the ground, lit by firelight.

"Look here," he said. "Fresh footprints in the dust. It appears that more than several someones have preceded us — very recently."

"The Eternians?" asked Agnès.

"Likely. And if my eyes do not deceive me, Edea was among their number."

"Edea?" Tiz repeated. "Who is that?"

"My soulmate!"

Agnès made a scoffing sound.

"You, ah, know her name?" Tiz asked scrubbing the back of his neck.

"But of course! I know many things about her, thanks to my diary. She had an idyllic childhood in Eternia, but trained rigorously from a young age to become a warrior. Her athleticism is her crowning achievement, but she is no dumb jock! She has been tutored in history, geography, mathematics, strategy, music, drawing, magic—"

"Thank you, that's enough," said Agnès crisply.

"You know a lot about her," Tiz said. "Does she, uh, know anything about you?"

Ringabel huffed through his nose.

"Oh, well, I'm sure you'll connect when you _do_ meet."

"Most certainly," said Ringabel. "Our relationship can only take off with wings."

Moving through Centro proved to be tricky. Their progress was impeded by several obstructions — dead ends, locked gates, and monster attacks.

The last challenge was made more simple, however, after they'd stumbled across the armory. The weapons inside were mostly broken and rusty, but Agnès had found a pair of iron knuckles at the bottom of a chest. After she'd secured them on her hands, her blows had become devastating. She'd even taken down a pig-beast taller than herself with a single bash to its face.

Ringabel, too, had found a prize in the armory. Tiz had watched, with some confusion, as the man had pulled a sorry looking short-sword from a cobwebby corner, holding it with an air of reverence.

Seeing Tiz's doubtful expression, Ringabel had explained himself. "This steel has been folded with liquinite." Moving the blade close to their torch, he'd looked at Tiz expectantly. "See?"

Tiz had looked. All he had seen was a dinky sword that had seen better days. He'd been thinking up a good white lie to humor Ringabel when it had struck him. The little sword was reflecting a cool blue light when the firelight was _orange_.

Ringabel's teeth had flashed. "Ah, you _do_ see."

"What _is_ it?"

"Liquinite is imbued with the essence of water," Rigabel had explained. "Surely you've heard the old wives' tale that witches melt when properly doused? There's some truth to that. Water dampens magic. Cutting a magician with a liquinite blade bleeds him of his magical powers. This—" Ringabel held the dirty sword aloft — "is a _Mage Masher_."

Between finding the Mage Masher and weilding iron knuckles, Ringabel and Agnès were doing quite well for themselves.

Tiz, meanwhile, had equipped Holly's asterisk, and while white magic proved useful as they made their way through Centro Keep, it was not a particularly enjoyable responsibility. Tiz itched to be in the thick of battle, but during fights, his chief occupation was healing Agnès and Ringabel. He knew the job was important, but still. There wasn't much glory to be found in the back line.

Then, when the ungodly stench of melted skin filled his nostrils, Tiz was very happy to have the asterisk he did.

 **EDEA LEE**

On the _Eschalot_ , Argent Heinkel had taken one look at Edea and Ominas and ordered them back off the airship.

"The officers who were present on this 'mission' can _walk_ back to Lontano," he'd said. "I advise them to expend their excess energy on this continent's monsters rather than on each other."

 _Fabulous._

Now Edea and Ominas, along with Sergeant Skinner and Corporal Brenan, were whacking their way through the creepiest abandoned fortress imaginable, hours away from a hot meal and their beds. Edea felt like spitting nails.

Ominas was leading the way, lighting their path with a fireball, and Edea was stalking behind him. Tailing them at a healthy distance were Skinner and Brenan. Their whispers were bouncing off the stone walls, drilling into Edea's ears.

"Lee was insubordinate!" Brenan was hissing under his breath. "Treasonous, even! If she had killed Crowe with that sword, Ise-no-Can-can—"

"Ise-no- _Kami_ ," Skinner corrected. "That katana is worth more than your life. Show it some respect, man!"

"I don't see _why_ I should pay tribute to a bit of steel when the girl who weilds it is going to get us killed! She'll set Ominas off, and we'll get caught in the crosshairs. Mark my words."

"If _Ominas_ kills us, how is _Edea_ responsible? You make no _sense_."

"Shut _up_ , you two," Edea snapped. "I think I hear someth—"

Three orcs were _on_ them then, their blood-curdling squeals scraping on Edea's nerve-endings, but the high sing of Ise-no-Kami whipping free of its sheath heightened her courage.

Though the edge of her katana was sharp, the hides of these orcs were _thick_. A cut that would kill other monsters wouldn't stop these beasts. And even if her slices _were_ strong and precise, there was always the chance that the orcs' defensive magic would deflect them.

And the darkness made the fight even more difficult.

The first monster fell to Skinner and Brenan's dogpile method of attack, while Edea devoted her skill to the quickest orc she'd ever encountered. Her exchange with it was harrowing — it was _fast_ for such a large beast — but she hadn't trained her entire life for nothing.

She was finishing it off, slicing its carotid, when she was snatched from behind. Two meaty arms snapped her arms against her sides. Ise-no-Kami clattered to the floor. She was squeezed with bone-crushing force.

Edea tried to scream, but could only wheeze. Her eyes filled with black spots.

Then she was falling to the stone floor, the orc behind her howling. Edea rolled out of the monster's range and retreived her katana from where it had fallen.

"Lieutenant Lee!" called Corporal Brenan, breathing hard. "You good?"

Her fellow Sky Nights had come through for her.

"Yes," she called, her voice tight. "We need to—" her chest spasmed— "to get through its defensive spells _,"_ she finished, gasping. "They're weakest when it attacks."

"I'll bait it," Skinner yelled. "Be ready!"

When the orc was raising its battleaxe, on a trajectory for Sergeant Skinner's skull, Edea shoved Ise-no-Kami into its left armpit, deep enough to pierce its heart through.

With a keening groan, the orc fell and burst into magic dust.

The battle over, Edea leaned on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

"That was a nasty one," Skinner observed. "It's as if the deeper we go into this keep, the stronger the monsters become."

Brenan grunted.

Ominas said nothing.

Edea shivered. "Let's get going, then. I don't know about you two, but I could do with some sunshine."

A half hour later, they hadn't made any visible progress in making it out of the keep. In fact, Edea had a strong suspicion they'd been backtracking, which hardened to certainty the second time they passed a crooked wall sconce.

"Are we _lost_ , Ominas? I thought you said your sense of direction was infallible."

Ominas's back stiffened.

Instantly, they were plunged into darkness. Behind her, Brenan and Skinner yelped in surprise.

"Ominas, what's going on?" Edea said with some panic. It was so dark she couldn't see her hand in front of her face! "If you were running out of magic juice, why didn't you _tell_ us?"

"Women," Ominas muttered darkly, "are so fucking condescending."

Despite herself, Edea shuddered.

Ominas was laughable. A ridiculous figure. But what he'd just said, in that _tone_ … was off _._

"I am sick," he said.

 _What?_

"And tired. Of women, telling me what to do. Plaguing me. They push too far. It's on their own heads… what happens next."

"What are you talking about?" Edea said carefully.

"Women get what they deserve."

"Ominas," came Sergeant Skinner's voice. "This is going too far, isn't it? If you're running low on energy, perhaps you can give us just enough light so that we can make a torch."

"That's a good idea," said Edea. "I—"

Ominas screamed, "SHUT UP!" so loudly that Edea clapped her hands over her ears.

"What did I tell you?" Brenan howled. "She's set him off!"

"Calm yourself!"

"We're going to die in here!"

"Brenan!"

"He's not himself," Edea called to Skinner and Brenan. "It's this keep! It's doing something to him. He's not stammering anymore. He's—"

Edea screeched as she caught fire.

 **AGNÈS OBLIGE**

The sound of feminine screaming was unmistakable.

Agnès and Tiz looked at each other. His expression was conflicted, and Agnès knew he had to be struggling with the same delimma as she — help the Eternian girl? Or, leave her to the doom she deserved? — but Ringabel made the decision for them. He sprinted towards her screams, taking their only torch with him.

Agnès would _not_ be left in the darkness. She dashed after Ringabel, Tiz hot on her heels.

As they approached, the lower sounds of male keening became audible. Agnès forced her weekening knees to stiffen as she plunged down the dark corridor.

When they arrived on the scene, Agnès' could only gasp. Through thick, horrid-smelling smoke, she could make out several bodies on the ground — two men in blackened armor and the Eternian girl Ringabel called 'Edea.'

Ringabel was crouching over her, checking her pulse with shaking fingers.

"—alive," she coughed, swatting at his hand. "Shields…"

Looking closer, Agnès could see a dim, magical forcefield shimmering around her body before its light winked out.

"Skinner… Brenan," Edea gasped. "Help them, _please_."

Tiz went to their bodies and busied himself with spells. A minute later, he turned to them and shook his head.

"Damn it," Edea whispered. Ringabel was holding her hand, but either she didn't notice it or didn't mind. Fat tears were streaking down her face. " _Damn it_."

"Who did this?" Agnès asked.

"Superior officer. Saw him… go that way," Edea said, nodding to where the corridor split. "He went right." Then she looked at Agnès again, frowning. "—Vestal _,_ " she croaked.

"You wish to capture me, I presume? Kill me, perhaps?" Agnès bunched her fists, relishing the solid weight of her iron knuckles.

Edea turned her head back to the scorched remains of the Eternian soldiers. She looked at them for a long moment. Then she shook her head. "I would like to kill someone else. And you're going to help me."

 **RINGABEL**

Despite common thought, Ringabel really _wasn't_ an idiot. He knew Edea wouldn't be letting him hold her hand, help her to her feet, and support her by the elbow if she hadn't been feeling very poorly indeed.

"Heal her," he told Tiz, then boiled with wrath when the farm-boy hesitated.

Tiz held up a placating hand, and muttered the curing spells necessary to get Edea back in fighting form.

Before Ringabel's eyes, Edea's scorched and blistered skin reverted back to peaches and cream — albeit dirty peaches. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and reached out to clean the soot from her face.

She slapped his hand away.

Ah, well. It was nice while it had lasted.

Edea went to the bodies of the Sky Knights and crouched before them. Holding out her hand, she recited an incantion. The corpses burst into magic dust.

"An Eternian custom," Ringabel said under his breath to Agnès, who was frowning. "For when proper burial isn't an option."

Edea tossed Ringabel a puzzled look, but didn't ask how he was familiar with Eternian military procedure. He wished she would. Anything to incite a conversation. Instead, she stood up and appraised them all.

"Are you ready to run?" she asked. Before they could give a negative answer, she continued. "We have to catch up to Ominas. I need to warn you though. This darkness… it's done something to him. Strengthened his power, made him … worse. I'm not exactly sure why or how, but I do know that he's too much of a coward to have done this under normal circumstances."

"Does he deserve to die then, by your estimation?" Agnès asked, her head tilted to one side.

"He deserves to die by anyone's estimation," Edea said grimly.

Ringabel nodded. He picked up the torch. "Follow me," he said. "I'll lead the way."


End file.
